


A Not So Sweet Heart

by PhysicsIsLife



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Obnoxious Roommates, Origin Story, Slow Burn, asexual!Stamets, meet cute, space boos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 68,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhysicsIsLife/pseuds/PhysicsIsLife
Summary: Paul Stamets is, and always will be, a scientist. Each action he takes is carefully calculated, and never done too quickly. He never wanted to join Starfleet, but it was the only way he could get the funding for his research. He never wanted to explore the stars, he only wanted to understand them.Everything changed, however, during his internship on Alpha Centauri. Paul met none other than one Hugh Culber. Suddenly, no plan he had before could compare to the longing to see Hugh's bright smile light up his life once more.





	1. Chapter 1

Paul’s life officially revolved around Starfleet Academy, where each day seemed to slowly seep into the next, a leisurely drawl of papers, insignificant professors, and boredom. Everyone was dull-minded, too unappreciative and unwilling to understand the significance of his research, what the breakthroughs he made actually meant for the future of science. He’d always loathed Starfleet, and the fact that the only way he could get what he needed for his research was through them was enough to make his skin crawl. Mother had always told him to never join Starfleet, how their backwards ways would end up getting him--and everyone he knew--killed; but look at him now, one of their lap dogs scurrying about.

He never did well with rigid standards, where he had to follow the pretty painted line someone else had drawn years ago. Like the mycelium network he predicted flowed through space and time, one could not simply expect rigid standards to last for years, decades, centuries. Things had to be constantly changing,  flowing, to allow for the individual adaptations and mutations between each form to take place and grow. But no, Starfleet wasn’t like that; no matter how humane and great it claimed to be, any militaristic group was always the same, and history clearly showed it.

Paul sourly took a sip of coffee, letting the too-bitter flavour seep into his tongue before swallowing. He flicked through another article on his PADD, eyes scanning along the data tables and trends. Starfleet had done something right for once, at least. When having to choose an internship to pursue, he’d directly requested that he be involved in the research he _wanted,_ rather than a random choice on some asinine planet on the edges of Federation space. He was working on a project in Astromycology on Alpha Centauri, which still surprised him every time he thought about it. It was the first opportunity he’d had in an official lab that was dedicated to research he believed in since joining the Academy.

So on that note, he was determined to make the most of it, and spent every waking moment possible exploring his notes, revising his papers, creating report after report of analysis upon the trends created out of the lab’s cultivation bay. He was currently in the middle of the 7th report of this week, there was a surge in spore production in their recently gene-spliced specimens, and-

Paul was jolted out of his thoughts by the most awful noise, like a dying cat that simply needed to be put out of its misery. Paul’s eyes snapped away from the PADD as he sent a dark glare across the cafe, finding the source of the cacophony to be a man.

The man was sitting at the counter, all high and mighty, a cup of green tea in one hand, and a real, honest, physical book in his other hand. The lighting was just right, giving a soft, golden glow to his warm brown skin; he was wearing a tight-fitting, dark green shirt that seemed to perfectly show off the large muscles that-

Paul cut himself off with a stab of his fork into the waffle on his plate. That was the exact opposite of what he needed, so close to finishing his latest analysis.  As he chewed, his glare still leveled at the hummer, he realized just what exactly it was the man was humming. Kasseelian opera. Out of all possible things, he’d chosen the worst possible genre. Before the man had started humming, Paul hadn't realized it was playing over the entire cafe. There’d be no way he’d be able to get it out of his head.

Paul picked up his cup of coffee again, loudly clearing his throat, glare still aimed at the far-too-handsome, obnoxious hummer, and it seemed his action did not go unnoticed. For a moment, the stranger glanced at him with soft brown eyes, burying into Paul’s soul in the split second they trained on him. A wry smile curled across the stranger’s face before he turned back to his book, blissfully silent.

For a split-second, Paul almost regretted snapping. But he had come to the cafe for work, and it worked easily enough to shut the man up. Satisfied, and forcing himself to not think about the stranger for a moment longer, Paul picked up his PADD again and went back to work, circling the trends in increased spore production he found. He was almost two-thirds of the way done when something obnoxious grated against his ears again. When he glanced up, the stranger was humming again, but even louder than before!

Paul dropped his PADD on the table, a scowl twisting across his face and sent his darkest glare towards the noisy idiot. His voice rang out clear across the cafe, which was mercifully empty minus him, the stranger and the staff. “Stifle it, or sit somewhere else! Some of us are doing important work!”

The stranger paused again, glancing over at him with what looked like amusement, which only served to confuse Paul, before he closed his book and stood up. Paul, satisfied that the beautiful (he wanted to smack himself for even thinking that) stranger was leaving, picked up his PADD again, his fork reaching for a piece of waffle without looking. When he brought it up to his mouth, he only realized after biting onto metal that he had entirely missed the food.

“You missed.”

As if the action wasn't embarrassing enough on its own, when Paul looked back up he saw the humming stranger standing before him. Paul gaped at him, confusion clouding over his face.

The idiot with the too-warm skin and the too-bright smile laughed as he slid into the chair across Paul. “This counts as somewhere else, right?”

Paul sputtered, barely remembering to take the fork out of his mouth and put it down on the table. It took him a moment longer than he cared to admit, but he composed his face together into its usual scowl. “Actually, as I clearly stated earlier, I have important work to attend to.” His voice was lofty, full of his usual confidence, as his fingers drummed against the table.

The stranger--Paul refused to attempt to learn his name--only smiled again. If that expression lingered any longer, it'd be permanently etched into the features of his face. It was blindingly annoying. He nodded slowly, gesturing towards Paul’s PADD. “Yes, your research must be groundbreaking.”

Paul practically preened, a self-satisfied grin instinctively coming over his face, before he could detect the laughter in the other’s expression. When he realized it, confusion came over him once again. He glanced down at his PADD and realized that it was only showing a gallery of pictures of his family’s dog. He wasn't even sure how that tab had opened, but his face quickly turned a bright red. He shut off the device’s screen a moment later.

The stranger held out a hand, and the laughter in his voice didn't sound as mocking as Paul remembered from when others spoke to him. “Hugh Culber, it's nice to meet you.”

Paul looked at the hand, far too many thoughts flying through his brain. He wondered why this stranger--Hugh Culber--had sat down. Why he hadn’t told Hugh to go away. He realized that Hugh’s hand was still outstretched, and after another brief second he grabbed onto it. Hugh’s hand felt warm and strong, and Paul’s shaking, clammy hand paled in comparison. (Quite literally, too. His hand was a stark white, it was awful.)

“Cadet Stamets,” he said quickly, only thanking himself for not stuttering. He belatedly realized he hadn't even given his first name. He felt far too flustered, his skin too hot, and his brain couldn't reach his mouth. He wanted to leave, to run away; but his legs refused to listen. Something was most certainly wrong with him.

“Paul, I mean,” He quickly added. “Stamets. Paul Stamets.” He shook Hugh’s hand for a few moments too long, and he abruptly pulled his hand away after that realization, the bright red blush on his face refusing to go away. He pulled his hand under the table, tapping his fingers against his leg in a staccato beat.

“Cadet, huh?” Hugh had taken his cup of tea with him, and took a sip from it. “Is your important work for a due-too-soon research paper, then?” Hugh looked down to the blank PADD. “Your work on samoyeds must be riveting.” Amusement was still sparkling in his too-brown eyes, following the lines of his broad grin.

Paul felt a flash of annoyance run through him and his face twisted into its usual scowl. “Actually, I’ve been studying _Prototaxites stellaviatori_ and its implications upon a multi-dimensional mycelial web that spans across our universe and how that would affect space travel.”

Paul expected that the moment he started speaking ‘mushroom’ that the interest in Hugh’s eyes would die, and that he would immediately be searching for a way out. It was the quickest way Paul knew to finally get some peace and quiet. Instead, however, intrigue lit up across Hugh’s face. “I think I’ve read about that theory before. Have you proven it?”

Paul was taken aback by the comment, startled and not responding for a few moments. Perhaps there was more to Hugh Culber than he’d thought. He managed to quickly collect his thoughts together,  a smile curving its way onto his usually cold features. “Not exactly, no. That’s what I’m looking for. There’s strong evidence supporting the existence of the network, visible both in its spores and around us, if you know how to look, but accessing it is a harder task. Unlike simply warping, we’re not only dealing with space, time and gravity. We need more than simply physics. But most people still consider the sciences completely different fields.”

With each word explaining his research more, Paul’s reluctant mumble picked up in speed and intensity, a brightness lighting up in his eyes. “Physics _and_ biology? No. On a quantum-level, there’s absolutely no difference. Physics _as_ biology.” He paused only for a moment, but in that moment his brain caught up to the words tumbling out of his mouth and he felt embarrassment rush to his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Paul muttered, fingers tangling around his lukewarm cup of black coffee, tapping against its ceramic edges, as he hunched over a little in his seat. “I have a tendency to get...carried away when talking about my work.” He stared down into the black coffee, watching the steam slowly curl away from the mug.  “This is a perfectly acceptable time to leave and not look back.”  

“Paul, that’s not fair,” Hugh complained. “You haven’t even gone into the details and you want to kick me out?”

Paul’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, looking up slowly to focus back on Hugh. “What?”

“You think I’d be scared away from talking to a handsome stranger simply because of his prickly personality and obsession with space mushrooms?” Hugh asked, lifting his eyebrows.

Paul’s expression wavered between a cold unwillingness to be hurt and hopeful confusion. He was still too used to the way people back home--or hell, even at the academy--would jeer at him, jab an elbow into his side or kick out a leg to trip him; the worst case, however, were those who pretended to care, only to shut it all down moments, hours, days later as a cruel joke. Yes, Paul Stamets was quite used to being alone. However, he also quite enjoyed it. There was nothing wrong with dedicating his life to his research. He’d graduate long before anyone else he had met day one of the Academy.

“Yes, I do.” He tried to ignore the ‘handsome’ comment, and the way it made his heart beat rapidly in his chest, and his fingers tremble against the cup until he gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The frown that lingered on Hugh’s face felt like a punch to Paul’s gut. Unable to keep looking at it, he looked back down to the cup in his hands, bringing it up to his lips to take a long gulp from it--an excuse to not talk.

“You know, it _is_ possible for someone besides yourself to be interested in your research.”

Paul scoffed into his cup, rolling his eyes as his face schooled itself back into its usual harsh frown. “Please, you don’t have to bother to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending. I’m interested in _you_ , and along with that comes whatever you choose to dedicate your life to.”

The sincerity in Hugh’s expression was almost frightening. Paul couldn’t tell if he was lying or telling the truth. Or, rather, it seemed like he was telling the truth, but that was so obviously impossible that Paul refused to believe in it. But the warmth racing through his veins, making his thudding heart feel like it was on fire, only terrified him.

He couldn’t deal with it any longer.

Paul picked up his PADD, quickly shoving it into his bag. “I have to go,” he said, his words running together. “I have a--class, I’m going to miss. Gotta go.” He slid out of the booth and skittered across the cafe towards the door, like a terrified animal.

“Starfleet Academy doesn’t even _have_ classes on Alpha Centauri!” Hugh shouted back towards him, but Paul had already opened the door and left before he could second-guess his decision.

He quickly walked his way over to the nearby hovertrain station, hiding in the little alcove that the wait station provided. He was an absolute idiot. _I have class,_ on fucking Alpha Centauri of all places. Honestly, what was he thinking? He glanced back to make sure he hadn’t been followed before slowly sliding down into the seat, sighing.

“Way to go, Paul,” he muttered to himself, dropping his bag beside him and resting his head in his hands. “Public idiot number one.”

He continued to mentally call himself an idiot for several more moments, before forcing himself to come to the realization that he didn’t need to be in any stupid relationship. His work was far more important, and he didn’t need any distractions. He nodded to himself, settling down into that idea. Yes, perfect.

He could feel the rumbling in his feet of the incoming hovertrain and stood up, breathing a sigh of relief. As he stood there, waiting for the train to slow down and open its doors, he heard a voice.

“Paul, hey! Wait a second!” Paul’s head whipped back towards the noise, eyes wide. What the fuck? Hugh was running towards him, carrying some sort of cup in his hand with the lid miraculously still on. Hugh caught up to him just as the train doors opened, and Paul’s eyes rapidly moved between him and the train.

“Wha-?”

“This is for you.” Hugh quickly shoved the cup towards Paul, looking out of breath. “You know, since you abandoned your drink in your...hasty escape. I figured you’d need a cup of coffee for your, you know, upcoming class.”  

Paul took the cup, not having much time to really think or argue with the slim window of time he had before the train left, his bewildered expression unwavering as his eyebrows scrunched together. “I don’t understand.”

Hugh looked conflicted for a moment, before something in his eyes seemed to resolve itself. He took a few steps back and said, “Well, I wouldn’t want to make you late! The doors are about to close, so you should really get on.” He rubbed the back of his head, smiling.

Paul gave one last glance between the cup and Hugh before he slowly stepped onto the train, hopelessly confused. “...Thanks?” he managed to push out right before the doors closed.

He had seconds to scramble into a seat before the train took off. As he took the seat, eternally thankful that no one ever rode the hover train at this hour, he glanced out the window, only seeing a messy blur of the world pass by him. He closed his eyes, breathing out a deep sigh and leaning back into the seat, trying to relax.

After a few minutes, feeling much more relaxed and prepared to do some research in the hour ride he had ahead of him, he remembered the cup in his hand and took a sip from it, slightly hesitant. But hey, why pass up free coffee, right? It was black, just like he had been drinking in the cafe.

He smiled slightly, before noticing there was something strange about the cup. He turned it around, and written on the other side was a hastily scrawled number, along with the line _call me ;)._

Paul wanted to die.

✭✩✭

Ten days later, Paul still hadn’t called Hugh. He kept making excuses; that his research was too important, that he was getting home too late at night, that by now it had been too late. He’d avoided that cafe for the last week and a half, but apparently he wasn’t as good at keeping his expressions as neutral as he liked.

This was evidenced by Straal, Paul’s ever-annoying roommate, calling from the kitchen in the other room one night while cooking (a horrible-smelling) dinner, “Alright Paul, what’s up? You’ve been walking around like someone stole your favourite mushroom for a week.”

Paul knew there’d be no quick way to end the conversation, and paused the documentary he had on, rolling over on his bed with a loud groan. “I’m just fine, Straal. You keep asking, and I keep telling you the same answer!”

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve heard since Hamrikn’s lecture first semester. You’re usually gone at this time of day after complaining about the shit I cook, yet here you’ve been for the last week.” Straal’s head appeared in the doorway, pointing a blackened wooden spoon at Paul. “Get off your ass, before I force you to come to another party with me.”

Paul’s face twisted with disgust as he glanced at his roommate. “Please, there’s not a single way you could convince me to go to another one of your hellish ‘parties.’”

Straal returned back to his food when something started rattling violently. “Oh, yeah? I’m your partner, Paul. All I have to do is say I’ll accidentally throw out your favourite mushroom, and you’ll do anything  I want.”

Paul’s horrified gasp was almost loud enough to echo in the apartment. “You wouldn’t dare! That specimen is essential to our research--you’d set us back weeks!”

“You don’t understand how desperate I am to give you at least some semblance of a social life. You’re literally always here.”

“I _enjoy_ being alone, thank you very much!” Paul snippily replied, grabbing onto his PADD with a sour expression.

“Correction: that right there is the biggest piece of bullshit I’ve heard. You literally complain about every hot man you see pass by you in the library daily.” Something clattered to the floor in the kitchen. “Shit! Don’t worry, nothing’s on fire yet!”

Paul flipped back to his documentary. Perhaps if he simply didn’t reply, Straal would drop the subject. It was a thin hope, but at this point it was all he had. He had approximately 10 minutes of blissful silence before Straal began talking again.

“So! What was it? A one night stand you’re trying to avoid? Did you confuse a lady for a dude, try to hit on her, and run away when you realized your mistake?”

Paul didn’t even pause the documentary this time, just flipping on the subtitles. “Really? You think I’d have a one night stand, or willingly stand up and flirt with someone?”

“Hey, there’s a first for everything! But this is definitely about a guy, right?”

Paul tightened his grip on the PADD, taking just a second too long to snap back. “No! I told you I’m too busy to bother with relationships.”

Straal’s loud laughter easily drowned out any secondary protest Paul could try to make. “That’s your excuse? Paul, you’re the shittiest liar I know. What’s his name?”

Paul scowled, turning up the volume of the documentary. “I told you, there’s no one!”

Sometimes, he questioned why he kept Straal as a roommate, why he didn’t simply run himself into debt by living on his own; but really, Straal was the only one who loved mushrooms as much as Paul did, so there was no way he could just walk away from him.

“I will walk in there and force an answer out of you. At least if you tell me like this I don’t have to see your face as you share all of the,” Straal’s face appeared in the doorway, a suggestive grin on his face and waggling his eyebrows, “juicy details.”

Paul rolled over to grab a pillow and chuck it over to the doorway. “Shut UP Straal!”

Perhaps the most annoying part was that Straal was absolutely right, as he always fucking seemed to be, but Paul really, absolutely, loathed emotions. They were useless, and only served to mess up his research.  But no matter how many times he told himself that, every time he glanced at his PADD, he was reminded of the number he’d saved, and the message he’d never sent.

Straal cackled, disappearing out of the doorway. “What’s his name, lover boy?”

Paul could sense the coming of the end, and he buried his face into the Starfleet-issued blankets. “Hugh.”

“Let me guess: he talked to you, you panicked and ran away, and now you’ll never find him again, but his beautiful looks and charming smile have already captured your heart?” Straal asked, his voice dripping with barely-suppressed laughter. “It’s just like the old romance novels, how cute.”

“Please, remind me why I haven’t stabbed you yet,” Paul grumbled, trying stubbornly to watch his documentary.

“You need someone else to help you with weird mushroom science,” Straal shouted over the sound of a pan crashing in the kitchen. “Fuck! Don’t worry about that.”

“I think I can manage. Research, party of one, coming right up.” Paul sat up, dropping his PADD down again on the bed and shutting it off.

“Actually, both our names are written in the scholarship, so you’re fresh out of luck.”  
“Fuck you.”

“That’s Hugh’s job,” Straal flippantly said. Paul almost didn’t hear him continue over the fierce blush brought to his face. “Speaking of your future boyfriend, how are you planning on finding him again? There’s a party tonight an- ”

“No.” Paul instantly refused, not even allowing Straal to think he would agree for a moment. He searched around for his shoes; the level of untidiness in his room really was alarming. When _had_ he last left? He found them under a discarded shirt soon enough and pulled them on. “If you wanted me to leave, you only had to ask,” he grumbled icily, grabbing his PADD and shoving it into his bag before stepping out of the dim bedroom.

“Whoah whoah whoah, we’re just getting good here.” Straal turned around to face Paul, the spoon he was holding nearly flying out of his hand. “You can’t leave now. Unless you’re going on a grand adventure to find your prince charming, of course.”

Paul fought against the rising blush on his cheeks, grabbing his jacket and tugging it on violently. “I told you, there’s no use in it! Even if I did find him, it’d all be over!”

“I can clearly see there’s something more. If it was really ‘all over,’ I doubt you’d be as mopey. What is it? What did you do?” Straal waved his spoon about wildly as Paul refused to answer and walked towards the door. “If you touch that doorknob I’m throwing this at your face. No mercy.”

Paul’s hand stopped centimeters away from the handle, glaring back at Straal, but there was an edge of desperation in his voice as he said, “Please, just drop it Straal.”

“Dammit, don’t you even want to be happy? You must’ve done something to make yourself this upset over it. What was it? At least tell me that.”

Paul shifted his weight between his feet, trying to think of an excuse but not coming up with any good ones. With a defeated sigh, he looked back to the door and muttered, “He gave me his number nearly two weeks ago, and I just never replied. I’m sure he’s forgotten about me by now, and it doesn’t matter.”

“...Stamets, you’re an absolute idiot,” Straal sighed, dropping the spoon into the overboiling pot. “If he gave you his number, I’m sure he’s been desperately waiting for a message from you, and it’s only growing worse the longer you wait. Just send him a fucking message already.”

“What would I even send?!” Paul exclaimed, throwing one hand up in the air. “Sorry I didn’t reply to you for a week, I have a hard time thinking people actually want to talk to me?”

“Perfect! That or, ‘Hi, your ass was really cute that day,’ since I’m damn well sure you took a look at it.”

Paul’s face turned a bright red again. “That’s it, I’m leaving. Goodbye, Straal.” He opened the door and quickly left, slamming the door shut behind him to drown out Straal’s obnoxious laughter.

✭✩✭

Leaving his apartment wasn’t a better choice. He’d already finished everything due that week on Monday, so Paul simply wandered around the city listlessly, cursing Straal and handsome strangers under his breath. Eventually, he ended up at his second (or first now, since he’d never return to that cafe again) favourite place on Alpha Centauri: the ice cream shop. Yes, yes, one could call him childish, but there was nothing quite like a triple scoop Cosmic Chocolate sundae to make any day better. At least, that’s what Paul thought.

He walked inside, and by the time he made it to the counter with a thin smile, the vaguest attempt at being polite, the cashier had already put in his order and was just waiting for his card. Paul tapped his fingers against his thigh, feeling too jittery, feeling _off._

He glanced over the total, realizing a moment too late that the cashier was simply waiting for him, feeling relieved as he pulled out his card and handed it over. The only words spoken during the entire interaction being a muttered ‘thanks’ before he slunk away to wait. He could eat it inside of the parlour, but to be honest he didn’t want a single chance of accidentally seeing Hugh. He crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight from foot to foot, glancing around at the few patrons. Whenever he made eye contact, he quickly looked away.

He’d never quite explored Alpha Centauri before, and although the urge suddenly hit him as the sun started to set, he instead got the brilliant idea of heading to the lab to put in a few extra hours instead. The sooner they finished their project, the sooner they could return back to campus on Earth. It was a win-win scenario.

He grabbed his snack with a grateful nod and turned away. He carefully put it in his bag, hoping it’d last the ride and he could eat it once he was able to relax into his work. Paul wrung his hands together, his left one having been shaking for the last ten minutes, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He sat on the hypertrain, watching the city blur past him, set in the dying orange light of the sunset.

It took him 20 minutes to ride to work, and after a retina test he was in. Paul immediately felt relaxed after stepping into the laboratory, the noises of the world outside shut out once the door sealed itself again. He went to his desk, shoving aside the pile of papers to open up the code sequence he’d been working on. He took out his snack and left himself be guided by the numbers he saw, losing himself in fixing and crafting the delicate code needed to create a new section of spliced genes for their project.  If they could just produce enough spores in a short enough time frame, he knew that Starfleet would finally give him the funding he needed.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, as the artificial lighting never changed, and he was only stirred out of his thoughts by the sudden, jarring ring on his PADD.

He glanced over at it in confusion, but upon seeing Straal’s face he sighed and accepted the call. “Hello.”

“Where the hell did you go? Are you at the lab? Seriously? We were given a 48 hour break for overworking, and after only 5 hours you're back at the lab?”

“I have nothing else to do!” The moment the words left Paul’s lips he realized his mistake. A wide grin came over Straal’s face.

“Perfect! If you’re so bored, you can come with me to the party tomorrow!”

“No, absolutely not. I refuse.”

“I'm going to call the professor, and tell him you’re completely ignoring his orders, and safety regulations, unless you come with me to this party.”

Paul paused in typing, glaring mightily at the screen. “You wouldn't dare.”

“My finger is hovering over the call screen, lover boy. Be back here in half an hour, or you’ll be banned from the lab for a week.” Straal winked at the screen and then cut the call.

“Dammit!” Paul scowled at his PADD for a few more moments, before grumpily putting supplies away. He took his time doing so, because he cared far more about the safety of his precious spores than about the anger of Professor Eburrack.

He arrived back home approximately 32 minutes and 12 seconds after Straal had called him. Once he walked inside, he saw his roommate sprawled across the couch in some god awful, brightly colored sweater. Straal held his clearly turned-off PADD up, speaking to it.

“Oh yes Professor, he was indeed doing cartwheels around the facility! Not even wearing a pair of goggles, the madman! Really, you should have seen him, he was--oh, speak of the devil, here he is now!” Straal gave Paul a cheery wave. “Hello Stamets. How funny of you to walk in right as I’m talking to Professor Eburrack.”

“Cut the crap, Straal. I’m here, just like you want me to be.” Paul shut the door moodily behind him, chucking his bag onto the nearby chair before crossing his arms over his chest. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Oh no, you’re not going in that.” Straal gestured to his own gaudy, brightly lit clothing. “The theme is neon, and don’t worry, I’ve already picked an outfit out for you.”

Paul’s expression immediately turned murderous. “No. I refuse. I’ve changed my mind, I’m not going with you.”

“I told literally everyone you’re making an appearance. It’s too late now.” Straal reached over next to him and pulled out a sweater of the most _horrifying_ combination of colors. The offending fabric was striped with bright, eye-stabbing rainbows. The most offending part, however, was probably the bright, sparkly white letters smacked right in the middle: ‘Talk to me, I’m a fungi!’.

“What the actual fuck, Straal.” The tiny bit of the will to live that still existed in Paul’s eyes died in that very moment, staring at his roommate. Straal seemed to either not notice, or really just didn’t care, chucking the sweater at him anyway.

“Put it on, and those tight jeans I know you have hiding in your closet. We’re making the most of this evening.”

Paul grabbed the sweater, cursing under his breath as he went over to the bedroom, finding the ‘hidden jeans’ lying right on his bed. Accepting his fate, Paul simply put on the jeans and sweater, prepared to die. When he walked back out and saw the grin on Straal’s face, he knew that that night would be a drinking night for him. He probably deserved one at this rate.

On their way to the party, Paul created lists and lists of reasons of why to not go, just knowing how terribly the night would end for him, but he couldn’t find a way to convince Straal before they were at the door, and at that point the first person to answer the door grabbed his arm and pulled him in.

There was blinding strobe lights and loud, ear-shattering music, and the place was packed full of people; so it was just the average academy party. After being jostled around by people for a few moments, Paul trying in vain to find a corner of the room unoccupied, someone thrust a cup of a violently bubbling blue alcohol into his hands. He definitely didn’t trust it.

He’d found the corner he was longing for, and hid in its tiny little shadow, trying to wilt away from company. Honestly, no one really cared if he was there or not, which was a blessing in his opinion, so he was left mostly alone. That was, of course, until he saw someone horribly familiar. He just saw a glance from between dozens of dancing faces, but there was no doubt about it. It was Hugh Culber. Fuck.

He definitely wasn’t sober enough for this. He glanced down at the still bubbling drink and chugged it. Someone nearby him saw him and slapped him on the back, cheering, “Fuck yeah Stamets get shit-faced!”

Paul only set them a withering glance before diving his way into the mob, being extremely careful to stay out of Hugh’s view. How the fuck was he there? Everyone attending was part of Starfleet Academy, or at least involved in the research they did. That had to mean--oh, fuck.

How had he not connected that Hugh could be part of Starfleet? When he looked back, it was obvious, but--well, they hadn’t really had a proper conversation so it wasn’t like Paul really knew anything about him. Really, the fact that he wasn’t over Hugh after ten days was asinine. Maybe it was the way he’d smiled at Paul like he actually meant something, or that he actually cared to listen to him, or follow after him after he took off, or--fuck, he needed another drink.

Paul found his way to the makeshift ‘bar’, a pool table covered in drinks. Against all of his luck, Ulua was standing right next to the table. When she saw him, her expression turned dangerous.

“Paul~! It’s sooo good to see you here! The last time I saw you at one of my parties, you blacked out so hard your boyfriend had to drag you back home by a foot.”

Paul scowled, his mood turning even more sour at the memory. “One, Straal is my roommate, despite all that you attempt to believe, and two, that was entirely your damn fault.”

Ulua laughed, her blue skin sparkling in the changing lights. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one I’m sure you’ll like. I call it ‘The Devil’s Sundae.’”

“That sounds like it’ll kill me. I think I’ll pass. Just give me whatever’s not going to kill me, please,” Paul said, sweeping his gaze over the glittering bottles of alcohol on the table.

Ulua looked him dead in the eye, keeping a straight face. “I’m afraid we’re out of literally everything besides Devil’s Sundaes.”

Paul glanced across the table of alcohol again, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Is that so? What would happen if I was to grab that bottle right there?”

“I’m smack your hand so hard you’d feel it for the next week.”

“I hate you, Ulua.”

“No, you love me,” she said with a broad grin. “Down on your knees, mushroom man.”

Paul spared a glance at the room around them, but he knew he had no escape. Triumph shined in Ulua’s eyes as she grabbed a bottle of chocolate syrup and vodka, holding each in a hand as she slipped around the table over to him.

Paul dropped down to his knees on the hard floor, scowling up at Ulua. She only smirked and tapped his chin with the bottle of chocolate syrup.

“Open wide. The longer you take, the more time I’m going to spend pouring vodka down your throat, so choose wisely Stamets.”

The moment Paul opened his mouth, she popped the cap off of the syrup and poured the chocolate into his mouth, followed quickly by vodka. “Don’t move, and close your mouth.” She commanded, after pouring in probably more than she should have, dropping both items down on the table before grabbing his cheeks and violently shaking his head. Paul watched the world spin around him before Ulua grabbed him by the arm and jerked him back up. “You’re good.”

Paul swallowed the awful concoction Ulua had forced him to drink, coughing and grabbing onto the table for support. “What the fuck _was_ that?”

She grinned broadly. “The Devil’s Sundae, I told you!” She slapped him on the back. “Now you’re ready to party!” She refilled his cup with something green and then shoved him away. “Go make friends, Stamets!”

Paul stumbled into the throng of moving bodies. Even though his head spun he couldn’t find it in him to join in the festivities. He’d said it a thousand times and he’d say it again: he doesn’t dance.

He wove his way throughout the apartment multiple times, avoiding people and conversations and going back and forth between the drinks table until he couldn’t quite see straight anymore, and each step was more of a stumble. Once in a while he could still catch a glance of Hugh Culber, but he would immediately stumble in the other direction if he did, thankful at least he was sober enough to not run up to him and proclaim his love.

Ulua and Straal kept finding Paul, despite his best efforts to avoid them. He was ever thankful neither of them knew what Hugh looked like, because he neither needed nor wanted their help in the matter. Rather, as the night bore on, it seemed to be their sole goal to get him as drunk as possible. They found him hiding near the bathroom. Ulua held up a bottle of Andorian whiskey and caramel syrup.

“On your knees, mushroom boy.” She commanded, gesturing at him. “Got another one coming right up for you.”

Paul squinted at her, frowning lightly. “You already made me drink your...whatever that was. You can’t do that again.”

“No no, this is different! This is the Angel’s Sundae! You’ve never had it, therefore you need to try it.”

Straal nodded, standing right by her side. There was a grin on his face, and a smear of lipstick on his cheek. “She’s right, you know.”

Paul looked between the two of them slowly, eyebrows scrunched together. While he was trying to think of a reply, the strobe lights in the other room shone a myriad of blue lights down the room, and his eyes went wide. “Look! It’s just like the network!” He’d long lost the cup he’d had, and both hands waved wildly about the hallway. “Each little, tiny blue piece that are all shiny!”

“Oh no,” Ulua groaned

“That’s it, give me the shot. We gotta shut him up somehow.” Straal took the bottle of whiskey from Ulua and walked over to Paul, grabbing him by the shoulder. “At this rate, either he blacks out so he remembers nothing, or he hates me for life, and I’m leaning towards the former. Hey Paul?” He shook Paul’s shoulder to grab his attention.

Paul looked away from the light, vaguely focusing his gaze on Straal. “Huh?”

Straal grabbed a cup off of the closest nearby person, glancing at what was inside before pouring it half-full of whiskey. “Drink.”

Paul grabbed the cup when it was shoved at his chest, squinting down at it, like he was analyzing its components. “What’s in it?”

“Liquid.”

“Cool.” Without further ado, Paul chugged down the whiskey, not bothering to question it further. After finishing it, he fell to the side just slightly, but his shoulder just hit the wall right beside him, face twisting up.

Straal took the cup from him and patted him on the back. “Great! I’m sure you’ll thank me later. Now get out on that dance floor!” Straal and Ulua disappeared back out into the dancing crowds, leaving Paul to stare listlessly up at the swirling light on the ceiling, muttering about mushrooms.

It took him a long time to move, hours in his head, but he slowly stumbled his way down the hallway. The noise was pounding against his head, and it was just a little too much, so he felt he should leave it all. The hallway seemed like a good enough option.

His foot caught against a glass bottle, and he immediately lost his balance. His arms swung around wildly as he tried to catch himself before inevitably slamming into the ground. It took Paul a while to realize he had fallen, the throbbing in his face feeling in tune to the loud beat of the music. Eventually, he tried to push himself up on shaky arms, but when he did the world spun and he collapsed back again. He liked the floor. The floor liked him. He figured he’d just stay there a while.

The corridor was much quieter than the rest of the apartment. None of the partygoers seemed to come down it, and if anyone saw him they didn't bother to help him. Paul managed to roll himself over, staring up at the lights on the ceiling. He then noticed something dripping down his cheek, and brought his hand up to wipe it away. He stared at his hand for a moment, trying to figure out what it was. “Aaahah. Blood! I knew it.” His hand flopped back down to the ground. That must have been the painful feeling in his face. “Brilliant analysis, Stamets. You’re sure to win the Zee-Magnees Prize now.”

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there for, staring at the ceiling, before someone finally found him.

“Paul? Is that you? What are you do--Are you okay?” A face hovered over Paul, frowning in worry.

Paul stared at them for a few moments, before a grin drew across his face. He raised a hand, patting Hugh’s cheek.  “I’m doing great!”

“You broke your nose. How long have you been here for?” Hugh carefully pushed Paul up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and taken home. Did you...come here with anyone?” There was a slight hesitation in Hugh’s voice, and his touch was featherlight.

“Just my roommate, and he’s not as pretty as you.” Paul traced his fingers over Hugh’s chest. “Wow, you’re so...muscley.”

Hugh replied quickly, “Alright, its time for you to go home.” There was a darkening blush on Hugh’s cheeks, making Paul grin. Hugh’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him up to his feet. Paul swayed slightly, but Hugh’s steadying hand on his shoulder kept him from falling over.

Paul leaned into Hugh, letting his unsteady feet be his excuse to rest against him. He wouldn't remember any of the night in the morning, so he might as well live it up. “Go home? Only if you’ll go with me.”

“I’ll make sure you don't fall on your face on the way back, and fix your nose for you. I almost brought my tricoder with me. But I didn't think anyone would manage to break their nose tonight.” Hugh slowly let go of Paul’s shoulder, watching him to make sure he didn't fall over; satisfied, he grabbed onto his wrist, keeping a gentle but firm pressure, guiding him towards the front door.

Paul followed after him, giggling. “You’re like my knight in shining armor. Or, knight in neon armor.”

Hugh said something in reply, before stopping to talk to someone, keeping a tight grip on Paul’s arm to make sure he didn’t just wander off. But Paul had no intention of leaving; he was lost in Hugh’s eyes. They were sparkling in the lighting, a warm brown filled with kindness so deep, Paul felt like he could go swimming in it. There was something about him that just continued to shock Paul, and made him want to spill every sad lonely secret about his life to Hugh. He felt like Hugh would understand, and give him that same warm smile he had seen in the café.

Paul was startled out of his thoughts when Hugh looked back directly at him. He tried to pretend like he knew what Hugh had just said, nodding rapidly. Hugh looked confused, but nodded slowly with a frown. He looked back at the person he was talking to. “Thanks Ger, I’ll see you later.” With that, he pulled Paul outside of the house.

Paul’s foot caught against the the bottom of the door and he stumbled, nearly hitting the ground before Hugh caught him. Paul glanced up at him, teasing, “If you wanted to carry me back home with you, you only had to ask.”

Hugh righted Paul, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Focus, Paul. You didn't answer me before: where do you live?”

“At my house,” Paul helpfully supplied. “You can come with me! I’ve been growing a great big garden you know. Mother says that she's going to use all of the vegetables while im gone, but I don't believe her, because-”

“No, here. On Alpha Centauri.”

Paul leveled a blank stare at him. “At myyyyy...apartment?”

Hugh nodded encouragingly. “Which is where?”

“On Alpha Centauri.”

“Fuck it. I have a tricoder at home anyway, and can fix your nose. I’m not leaving you to wander around at night.” Hugh once more took his arm, and determinedly set off down the hallway.

“I’ve never really noticed before, but don’t you think the moon looks just like a misshapen mushroom?” Paul gestured his free hand towards the ceiling. The moon wasn’t visible, since they were inside, but Paul seemed to be able to see it anyway. “Perhaps that’s how it all works together. The moon connects up to the mycelial network, and that’s how people can space travel around. Yes, I should write that down. Where’d my PADD go?” Paul looked around, frowning.

As Paul continued to ramble on, stumbling along after Hugh, Hugh simply stopped replying. Every time Paul would pause for a moment, glancing at Hugh with a frown to see if he was listening, or even still there, he would see a soft smile on Hugh’s face, and then Paul would bring up another topic and start rambling again.

Finally, Hugh pulled them to a stop in front of one of the Starfleet-issued apartments.

“Whoah, are you part of Starfleet too? I didn’t know that,” Paul said, prodding the nameplates beside the door. “Who’s this? Next to your name.”

Hugh pushed the door open and pulled Paul inside. “My roommate. Sit down on the couch, I’ll grab the tricoder.”

Paul nodded, glancing around the apartment. It was far neater than his, but he’d always prioritized work over cleaning. He found the couch and dropped onto it, sprawling across the cushions. Wait, if it wasn’t his apartment, where were they? He frowned in confusion, glancing around for some sort of clue. Perhaps a tour would give him some idea. He hauled himself back up, watching the world spin around him before it righted itself. Thank goodness everything wouldn’t be upside down all the time.

Were those measuring cups on the counter? Did Straal buy measuring cups, with the intent to finally make something edible? Usually he just said he ‘understood how basic measurements obviously worked’ and dumped whatever he wanted inside. Paul then turned towards the closet, opening it up. “Huh. A vacuum. I mean we didn’t have one before, but it seems like a smart enough purchase, really. Why didn’t we have one before?”

He wrinkled his nose, trying to contemplate why they suddenly had a vacuum, when a burning pain shot through his face. “Shit!” He brought a hand up to his nose to figure out what was wrong, but his angle was just slightly off, an understandable miscalculation, and he ended up smacking himself in the face lightly. “Ow, fuck.” When he pulled his hand away he noticed there was blood on it. “Oh no, I’m dying.”

“What are you doing in my closet?” Hugh’s confused voice spoke up from behind him, and Paul whirled around to face him, the non-bloodied hand swaying to help him keep balance.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” Paul countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, you’re definitely in my apartment. Your nose is bleeding again, come back over here and let me fix it.”  Hugh gestured him closer.

Paul frowned at him, looking skeptical, but walked over. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Now, sit down,” Hugh put his hand on Paul’s shoulder, pushing him back down into the couch. “Perfect, now don’t move.” Hugh pulled out his tricoder, waving it in front of Paul’s face while pressing buttons on it.

“How’d you get one of those?” Paul asked, squinting his eyes at the light. “I thought only Starfleet’s medical track had them.”

Hugh looked amused as he continued to fix the broken bones. “That makes sense, considering I am part of Starfleet’s medical track.”

“Really? Wow! I had no idea.” Paul looked amazed, gaping at Hugh. His face was like an open book at that point, but he didn’t care very much.

Hugh nodded. “Mhm, I’m a cadet, just like you.” After Paul’s nose was healed up, Hugh wiped away the blood all over his face. “Perfect, now let’s have you sleep off all that alcohol, alright?”

Paul nodded, almost looking serious for a second, before he grinned. “Only if you’ll sleep with me.”

It took Hugh a moment to reply, mouth slightly open and a blush creeping over his face. “Ask me again when you’re sober.” He wrapped his arms around Paul’s chest, hauling him up. Paul was limp in his arms, resting his head against Hugh’s bicep. “I know you can stand up.”

“I broke both of my legs, you have to carry me there.”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “You’d be in a lot more pain if your legs were broken.”

“The pain in my heart of you not carrying me there is way worse.” Paul didn’t even bat an eye at the words that just tumbled out of his lips. Some part of him was screaming at him to just _shut up_ , but it went unheard.

Hugh sighed, but he didn’t sound very annoyed. “Alright, alright.” Hugh shifted his grip so he could scoop Paul up into his arms bridal style, with no effort at all.

Paul grinned again, probably smiling more now than he had in the last 10 years of his life. He wrapped his arms around Hugh’s neck. “What did I say? My knight in neon armor!”

Hugh only shook his head as he carried him to the bed, gently setting him down, pulling Paul’s arms away. “You’re drunk, you won’t remember any of this in the morning.” He sighed, looking sad. “Just go to sleep, alright?” He pulled his blanket up over Paul. “Make sure you stay on your side.”

Paul curled the blanket around himself, staring up at Hugh through glassy eyes. “This is your bed, right? You should sleep here too. With me.”

Hugh adamantly shook his head. “Just go to sleep. You don’t want me in there with you.”

Paul frowned, the expression comical in its over exaggerated form. “That’s not true!” he protested, far louder than he needed to. He reached one hand out towards Hugh, fingers flailing to grab onto his shirt.

Hugh took a step back, just out of range of Paul’s reach. His expression looked conflicted for a moment, before resolve settled in his eyes. “Good night, Paul. Computer, lights off.” With that, Hugh turned and left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Paul rolled over in the bed, groaning loudly. Logically, a small part of him could definitely agree. He hoped to high hell he wouldn’t remember a single fucking thing from this later, but at the moment all he could think was, _fuck I wish I was cuddling that strong, handsome man._  

Exhaustion seemed to have settled into his limbs, and his eyes slowly drifted closed. He hugged one of the two available pillows to his chest, feeling darkness start to creep over his thoughts. Mmm, the bed smelled nice. It wouldn’t be so bad to sleep there, Paul decided as his consciousness drifted away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Paul woke up slowly, feeling both bliss and agony. He felt warm and safe, wrapped up in a cocooning blanket, but the moment he shifted, or tried to open his eyes, daggers seemed to stab into his head. “Fuck,” he groaned, then realized he spoke too loud and groaned again, trying to hide his head under the blanket even though no light came into the room. 

Where was he? What time was it? What the hell had even happened last night? He only had vague recollections after he’d entered the party. Straal had definitely done something, and he was sure that Ulua had been in on the act as well. After Ulua had forced a third--or was it fourth? Fifth--cup of Tellarite beer into his hand, everything was blurry. 

What day was it? Fuck, he couldn’t even remember. Did he have to go into the lab? Trying to ignore the sharp pain in his head, and the multiple protests throughout his body, Paul pushed the blanket off of him and slowly sat up. 

He glanced around the bedroom, but nothing seemed familiar. Where the hell did he go last night? Paul tried to scrounge up memories, but everything stopped when the bedroom door opened very slowly. Standing in the doorway was none other than Hugh Culber. Broken memories of the previous night suddenly rushed into his head, happy to provide him with enough embarrassment to die 20 times over. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Hugh’s voice was quiet, a mercy to Paul’s horrible headache. “I thought for a while you were dead.”

Paul, remembering some of the horrifying shit he’d said in the last 12 (hopefully it really hadn’t been more than that) hours, tried to fight off the rising blush on his cheeks. He battled with himself on what to say, or how to act. To pretend he remembered nothing, thank Hugh, and leave? That would probably be the safest option.

“You feeling alright?” Hugh was frowning, probably worried from Paul’s lack of response, but Paul still hadn’t the slightest clue of what to say.

“...Yes. Just fine.” Miraculously, his voice had managed to keep its usual cold steeliness to it, and he only hoped that his face didn’t betray any sort of emotion. It’d be best to just get the situation over with quickly, after all.

The smile on Hugh’s face almost looked strained, too thin and not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry I brought you back here. You were too drunk last night to realize where you were, and I didn’t want you to wind up hurting yourself.” 

Paul stood up, unsteady on his feet for a moment but easily regaining his balance. “It’s fine. Thank you for...helping me. I apologise you had to see me in such an inebriated state; my roommate grows overzealous when I finally agree to go someplace with him.” He couldn’t believe he was in a situation like this, in Hugh Culber’s dorm. His fingers played with the frayed edges of the gaudy sweater he was still wearing, twisting and turning the fabric, betraying his nervousness. 

“Don’t worry about it.  Everyone says things they regret while drunk.” Paul couldn’t quite tell, but there definitely was something off with Hugh. His voice was different from the last he spoke, and the stance he had was slightly off kilter, shifting between his feet too rapidly. “Here, this is for you,” Hugh said as he held up a cup of tea. “To help with the headache you must have.” 

Paul shuffled closer, slowly accepting the cup of tea. He wasn’t really a fan of tea, but he figured it would be too rude to refuse. Despite what people thought of him, he didn’t actively try to be inconsiderate--usually. “Thank you.” 

The smile on Hugh’s face looked a bit more genuine now. “Don’t mention it.”

Paul tapped his fingers slowly against the edge of the cup, taking a slow sip of the herbal tea to give himself an excuse to not say anything for a few moments longer. “...I hope I didn’t...insult you, or do anything too abrasive last night.” 

Hugh shrugged, opening up the bedroom door behind him to invite Paul into the living room. “You were fine. It was...refreshing, in a way, to see you so carefree.”

Paul accepted the invitation, moving around Hugh to step into the living room and give it a glance around. He scoffed into the cup of tea, still holding it close to his face, like a shield. “Carefree is one word for it. I’d call it unprofessional.”

“Most people don’t think about professionalism at a party.” Hugh walked over towards the tiny kitchen, glancing back at Paul. “Are you hungry?”

Paul scowled. “I’m not much of a party person. Professionalism always matters,” he said stiffly. At the invitation to stay longer, he hesitated, the grip his fingers had on the mug tightening until his knuckles turned white. The scene felt too familiar to him, and the urge to run away hit him again. 

Hugh seemed to sense the indecision within him, or perhaps it was written more clearly on his face than he liked. “It’s just an offer, you don’t have to stay.”

Paul felt as if he owed Hugh something, and the logical part of his brain told him that Hugh was obviously interested in him, obviously wanted to keep talking to him, because why else would be invite him to stay? But the other half of his brain didn’t want him to get involved in a situation that was a solid 80% chance of him being too hopeful and getting hurt. 

“No, I…” Paul hesitated. If he returned home at that moment, he knew there was no way he could make up an excuse for Straal that wouldn’t smell like bullshit, and with how little he remembered, he was sure Straal was more than willing to fill in the imaginary details himself. He loosened his grip on the teacup slightly, managing a small smile. “It’s not as if I have anything better to do.” 

“Great! Take a seat, and I’ll make something real quick.” 

Paul glanced at the open table, and quietly sunk into an open chair. His headache was only very slowly going away, and the lights in the room and Hugh’s somewhat loud voice were killing him. He hated tea, but still felt too obligated to simply leave it untouched. Mother would have killed him if he’d just abandoned it.

The two lapsed into silence, but it didn’t feel heavily awkward. At least that’s what Paul told himself, running a finger along the rim of the mug as he watched Hugh work. As the seconds ticked into minutes, Paul began to relax. At least he was, until he heard _humming._ He narrowed his eyes, glaring at Hugh’s back. “Back to this again, are we?”  
Hugh paused for a moment, glancing back at Paul. “Do you just hate all types of music?”

Paul wrinkled his nose. “No. I have several artists who I enjoy listening to, thank you very much. I’ve never enjoyed the late 20th century, however.”

Hugh looked surprised. “Did you recognize what I was humming?” After a second of waiting, he turned back to the food he was cooking, probably to stop it from burning. Paul had no clue what it was, but it certainly smelled better than anything Straal had attempted to make; then again, that wasn’t a hard barrier to beat.

“Of course. Just because humming is obnoxiously awful, doesn’t mean you’re not good at it.” Paul took another sip of the tea on instinct, nearly gagging when he realized it wasn’t the coffee his mind just assumed it would be. He looked between the mug and Hugh, debating whether or not to ask if he had coffee. He knew he wouldn’t wake up until he really had coffee, but he didn’t want to impose. The headache burning behind his eyes was warping his judgement just a little too much.

“Culber, do you happen to have a coffee machine?” He realized a split-second after speaking that he had no idea if Hugh had said anything in reply to his other comment, as he’d been too focused on the tea, but he just hoped Hugh hadn’t said anything important and would continue to play it off casually. 

Hugh nodded, pointing across the counter. “I’ll start a pot in a second.” He grabbed a spatula from a nearby drawer, flipping something over in his saucepan.

“Oh, I can-” Paul started, about to stand up.

“No, too late, I’ve got it.” Hugh slid on over to the the coffee machine, and started brewing a pot. 

Paul blinked, before relaxing back into the chair. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. This is almost done, anyway.” 

There was a second silent lapse, Paul once more watching Hugh work, his gaze intently focused on Hugh’s backside. He was just so...diligent, in everything he did; and his figure was nothing to scoff at. Hugh must have worked out, probably daily. Paul couldn’t remember the last day he’d went on a run, let alone visited a gym. 

Somehow, everything ended up being done at once, and Hugh set down a plate of food in front of Paul and the cup of coffee beside him at the same time. Paul smiled, the expression feeling genuine. “Thank you.”  He looked between the black coffee, and the...honestly he wasn’t sure  _ what _ the food Hugh had made was. It looked vaguely like an omelette, but he’d never really had an omelette before so who knew? “Do you have any sugar?”

Hugh nodded, and put the sugar next to Paul on the table before taking the seat across from him. 

Paul nodded his thanks, picked up a spoon and began sugaring up the coffee. Although he enjoyed the occasional cup of black coffee, really that was only when he was in severe need to stay awake. He had a horrible sweet tooth in reality, and the coffee he liked to drink was probably far over tipping the scale in terms of unhealthy.

Hugh raised an eyebrow as he watched Paul pour more and more sugar in. “Are you...alright?”

Paul glanced up at Hugh for a moment, before slowly putting it two more spoonfuls and stirring. How many had he put in? 15? Probably. “Just fine. Why do you ask?”  
“You’re drinking a cup that’s more sugar than coffee,” Hugh pointed out, cutting a piece from his omelette.

Paul bristled. “I just enjoy my coffee with more sugar than most people,” he grumbled, taking a gulp from it. “What will you do, call my mother?” he asked with a roll of his eyes.

“When your heart inevitably fails, I’d have to look after you.” Hugh looked like he was about to say more, but he took a bite of food first, leaving Paul staring at him in confusion. 

“Why?” Paul picked up a fork, giving the food an experimental prod before taking off a piece and eating it. It was a punch of flavour to the face, and his face screwed up in disgust. 

“I’m a doctor. It’s what I do.” Hugh looked concerned at the expression across Paul’s face, but before he could comment on it, Paul cleared it away, steeling himself into an emotionless mask again. 

“You’re a doctor? I-”

“Huuugh, honey I’m hooome!” The front door to the apartment slid open, someone with a mop of curly hair on their head and a too broad smile on his face stepping into the apartment. “You won’t fucking believe the sex I had last night, I--oh shit.” The man, who Paul equated to be Hugh’s roommate, was staring at them from the open door. A lecherous grin crept across his face. “Well fuck dude, if you wanted me to stay out later all you had to do was call.” 

Paul felt hot shame wash over him. “I have a lab report I must finish today,” he said, standing up abruptly. He didn’t give either man time to react before he quickly made his way to the door, stepping around the roommate and outside.

“Whoah wait a sec-”

“Paul!”

Paul didn’t stop to listen to either of them, briskly walking down the hallway. He didn’t run, not wanting to make a bigger fool of himself, but he didn’t relax until after he turned the corner. He leaned back against the edge of the wall, closing his eyes. “Fuck.”

He realized that he was holding something in his hands, and when he looked down, he noticed that he was still carrying the mug of coffee. Double fuck. Well, there was no way he was going to walk back now. 

Paul sighed, pulling away from the wall and wandered for a bit, trying to find out where he was in the Starfleet-issued housing complex. He found his bearings and briskly made his way back home.

“Heey, it’s Stamets!” A group of students were chilling in the hallway, and one grinned over at him. “You sure had fun last night, huh?”

Paul’s cold gaze swept over her, and he scoffed. “Please, don’t even bother. What did you get on the last AstroBio 241 midterm? A 32%? Don’t try.” He walked past her and her friends, taking a sip from the cup of still-warm coffee.

“Fuck you too! This is why nobody fuckin’ likes you!”

“I’ve run out of fucks to give,” Paul snapped back as he turned the corner. On his way back home, a solid 15 minute walk through the different buildings, more people called out at him, jeered at him or tried to get a rise out of him in some way. He ignored all of them, and by the time he was opening the front door he’d run out of coffee and had a horrid headache.

He dropped his mug in the sink. “I hate people. Computer, lights on.” 

“Uggh, what the fuuuuuuck. Computer, lights off,”  Straal groaned, from somewhere in the living room.

Paul whirled around, trying to find where Straal could have gone. He scowled in the darkness. “Computer, lights to 75%.”

“Computer, lights to 25%.”

“Damnit Straal!” At least in the dim lighting, he could finally spot Straal, sprawled across the floor next to the couch. “You better not have vomited all over our floor.” 

Straal rolled over, grinning broadly at Paul. “I had the most fuckin’ beautiful night, dude.” He jumped up to his feet, grabbing Paul by a shoulder. “Ulua is a goddess.” 

Paul looked disgusted, pushing his hand away and stepping back. “I have no desire to hear about your sexual escapades, thank you. Please go take a shower.”

Straal winked. “Oh, I did. With Ulua. How was your night?”

Paul scowled at him. “Why don’t you tell me? I’m sure you have a better memory of what I did than I do.”

Straal fell back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair to smooth it out, laughing. “I just wanted to help you loosen up. You’re so uptight all the time.” Straal’s easygoing grin turned into a cheshire smirk. “The last I saw you, you were being led out by a hot piece of ass. I figured you were fine.”

Paul ignored the bright blush that lit up across his face, turning away from Straal, towards the bathroom. He needed a shower; he could feel the grime and sweat from the previous night burrowing into his skin. He tugged off the god awful rainbow sweater, throwing it back at Straal as he slammed the bathroom door closed behind him. 

“Computer, turn on the water,” he commanded, undressing. There was one thing Starfleet had going for them at least - their facilities were top notch. When he stepped under the water, set at the perfect temperature, his eyes closed in bliss. Standing there, he could think for almost a moment that he was back home. Part of him still longed to be back there, where everything was so much simpler. He knew Starfleet had the resources he required to successfully complete his research,  but it didn’t make him loathe them any less. 

He stepped out of the shower about 45 minutes later; a long shower always relaxed him, made him feel prepared to face the slog of the day. ...Fuck, he hadn’t brought anything into the bathroom. Dammit. He grabbed a towel, cursing Straal under his breath. He wrapped the towel around his waist and, after a quick search to make sure Straal wasn’t breathing down his neck, disappeared across the hall into his room, only feeling calmer once the door was closed.

“Computer, lights to 90%.” He dropped the towel, grabbing his latest Starfleet-Issued uniform to wear, rifling around for the badge for far longer than he probably should have, realizing it had been kicked under his bed. 

He pinned it onto his chest and grabbed his PADD, quickly flicking through emails from professors and updates from the Academy, as well as the reports from the machinery running tests in the lab. “Straal! Did you finish the analysis of the latest photosynthesis report?”

“We’re on break Stamets! Give it a rest!” Straal hollered back.

“That’s a no,” Paul grumbled to himself, searching for the report in his mail. He’d just have to do it himself then. He went to the kitchen, looking around for something to eat. He finally settled on synthesized french toast and a box of Thraanian Cheese Puffs, because what else would he eat? He grabbed the snacks and went back into his room, sitting down at his desk.

It would be a long day of writing papers, which was his favourite part of the day. It was easy to lose himself in the numbers that scrolled across the holographic screen, finding the patterns that connected seemingly random events together, learning new things, proving theories. 

 

✭✩✭

 

Hours later, Paul only stood up and shuffled out of his room when he felt he needed coffee. He squinted in confusion at seeing all of the lights off. “Computer, lights to 10%,” he muttered, eyes half-closed as he scrounged around the kitchen, barely managing to find the coffee maker. Coffee was the one thing he preferred to not synthesize, finding it much stronger when it was made naturally.

“Computer, what time is it?”

The computer beeped before chiming in a female-robotic voice. _ It is 3:43, Cadet Stamets. _

Paul ran a hand over his face, groaning. He’d barely finished one of his reports, let alone all three. How had time gone by so far? “Set alarm for 8am: reminder for lab.”

_ Understood. _

Paul reached for the first cup that was available in the sink, cleanliness the last thing on his mind. He grabbed onto one and pulled it out, and after squinting at it for a moment realized it was the one he’d stolen from Hugh. 

He groaned, but shoved the cup under the coffee maker anyway. “Damnit, fuck, alright.” He left the coffee to brew, going back to his room to grab his PADD, scrolling over to contacts, searching for ‘Culber’. It wasn’t very hard, considering he had very few contacts. 

Paul sat there for far too long, contemplating what exactly he should write down. The coffee, abandoned in its maker, had long grown cold as Paul would type something, quickly erase it, then type something else. 

Eventually, as the time on his PADD ticked to 5, he had created a message. He tapped his fingers against the edge of his desk, teeth worrying away at his bottom lip. He didn’t know  _ why  _ he was so bothered by why Hugh could potentially think of his message. It was simple enough. It was best not to think of it anymore. He read over it once more:

_ Hello, this is Stamets. Thank you for aiding me last night, and I apologise for any inconvenience I may have caused you. It seems I have accidentally taken your mug with me, deepest apologies, is there a time I might return it to you? _

Nope, definitely embarrassing, and there was no way to make it better. Fuck it. He quickly hit send and shut off the PADD. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, putting the PADD away. He had a paper to finish, he couldn’t look at the PADD. He  _ wouldn’t  _ look at it. He stood up, muscles groaning in protest, and went back to the kitchen to reheat his pot of coffee, settling into his chair for the new three hours of reporting before he was to go back to work. 

Paul remained engrossed in his research, only getting up to refill his mug of coffee, for the next three hours. Only when the computer spoke up, chiming in:  _ 8 am reminder: lab.  _ He rubbed his eyes with a groan but slowly stood up, stretching with a yawn. “Computer, lights to 100%. Save and catalogue data reports 7 through 12, send them to Professor Eburrack.” 

_ Understood. _

Paul was already wearing his Starfleet uniform, so he didn’t bother to change as he stepped outside of his bedroom, slamming the palm of his hand on Straal’s door on his way to the kitchen. “Get up! You’ll be late again!”  
“Uggggggggggh, Fiv’ more min.” 

“Fine, have it your way. Eburrack will tear your throat out for being late again, and I get to finish the project on my own. It’s a win-win for me.” 

“Fuckin’ fiiiiiiiiine. Make me a bagel or something,” Straal groaned from behind the door. Satisfied, Paul continued on his way to the kitchen. 

“Computer, two bagels with honey.” Paul started the coffee maker up again. He’d finished off his third pot earlier that morning, so he needed to start another one up. Straal would kill him if Paul forced him out of bed without coffee. He stared at the synthesizer, which was busy making the bagels, tapping his fingers against the counter. “Annd, let’s go with, three chocolate doughnuts.” 

When everything was prepared, he pulled it all out and set the bagels off to the side, next to a mug full of coffee. Half milk, one spoonful of sugar, just like Straal liked it. Some people could call him inconsiderate, but he paid attention to details.

He poured vanilla coffee creamer into his cup, swirling it around with a spoon. He was silent, not as if he had anyone to talk to, running over the data he’d been reading in his head, figuring out what it was he wanted to do in the lab today. He hoped that the professor wouldn’t force them to do some asinine thing again. Straal and him obviously had a much better grasp on astromycology than that idiot ever would, but Eburrack was the one with the degree so he obviously “knew better.”

Paul groaned just thinking about it. He couldn’t wait for the day he finally had his own lab, with no one to tell him what to do, free to spend all the time he wanted with his spores, carefully cultivating them, analyzing them, taking the data he felt was most important-

“Wake up, dreamer boy!” Straal slapped Paul on the back, jarring him out of his thoughts.

Paul jerked, nearly spilling the coffee out of his cup. He scowled over at Straal. “Excuse me for going over the data that  _ you  _ didn’t bother to analyze.”

Straal picked up a bagel, taking a bite before giving a dramatic shrug to Paul. He grabbed the coffee in the thermos with a nod of thanks, sticking it precariously in his bag before grabbing the second bagel in his other hand. “We didn’t even need to do work these last few hours. Is that why you’re so awake? You didn’t even sleep last night, did you? Eburaack’s gunna rip you a new one. C’mon, we’re gunna miss the train, let’s go.” 

Paul rolled his eyes, shoving the lid atop his cup before grabbing his three doughnuts, wrapping them up before shoving them into his bag and following after Straal out the door.

✭✩✭

Paul always tried to ensure that he had enough sleep the night before they had an important experiment being done in the lab, but being forced to take a sudden 48-hour break threw off the schedule he usually strictly followed. 

“Your measurement is off by 5 micrometers, Stamets.” Professor Eburrack was breathing down his neck, and Paul jerked back from the machine, turning to glare up at his Vulcan instructor.

“It’s impossible to measure in micrometers due to the error of the human eye,” Paul seethed, turning off the laser. “Therefore-”

“You can not simply use your species as a basis to ignore your obvious shortcomings.” There was no question that Eburrack absolutely loathed humans, and Paul never understood why the man bothered to be part of Starfleet with such ideals. Professor Eburrack leaned down to the machine, turning it on with the flick of a finger, and completed the cut. “Do better next time, Stamets.” 

Paul barely held back the sharp reply on his tongue, giving a curt nod. “Done.”

Eburrack nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “There’s a malfunction in the core of our cultivator. Go deal with it, will you?”

Paul nodded, pulling off his gloves as he gave a last longing look towards the mushrooms underneath the glass of the machine. “Of course.” He turned away, towards their cultivation bay, into the tech room where the heater lay. 

Honestly, he should’ve been grateful that he and Straal had gotten that internship. The place had a full cultivation bay, and a cultivator bigger than their apartment to give the mushrooms anything they would ever need. Although he did enjoy gardening, and wouldn’t mind watching soil quality for proper growth, it was much easier to let the machine handle it so they could focus on the more important aspects of the experiment.

He logged the time of shutting the machine off, looking through the error logs to find the source of the problem. Some sort of wire misconnection down the third quadrant. Easy enough to fix. He opened up the hub, grabbing the toolkit on the desk next to him before he climbed into the machine.  He strapped the toolkit to his belt and climbed up the ladder. 

At least he wasn’t claustrophobic, or dealing with delicate machinery like this would be nearly impossible. It took him nearly five minutes to crawl through the tunnels and slide down to the third quadrant, finding the broken wire fairly easily. 

He crouched down next to the panel, pulling out the mini tools he would need, and got to work fixing the broken connection. “You’ll be better in no time with me fixing you up,” he said to the machine, gently patting it. He twisted the wire back into place, pulling up a screen of the computer’s coding to fix the mistakes created by the computer trying to self-reroute away from the issue.

He could vaguely hear a voice, echoing from outside the machine. Was that Straal talking?

“Hey Eb, someone turned off the cultivator! Was it those fuckin’ geologists again? They’re always trying to fuck up our experiments.” 

At first Paul wasn’t worried, he was sure Straal would just be able to spot the error logs. ...Then again, he was the only one who ever updated those. Fuck, had Straal ever even looked at them? 

He pulled his hands away from the machine, glancing back up the tube. “Straal! I’m fixing the error in the third quadrant!”

Apparently, Straal hadn’t heard him. He could hear Straal shout, “I’ll just turn it back on then!” 

Paul dropped the tools, panic rushing through him. “Wait!” A second later, he heard a roaring around him, echoing in his ears and making his skull rattle. Electricity rolled off of the metal surrounding him, tickling against his skin and making his hair stand on end. Shit, shit. “Turn it  _ off!”  _

_ Error: Data Sequence 34:C offline.  _

The computer spoke up, all around him, jarring his bones. He couldn’t move. If he so much as touched the metal surrounding him, he’d be absolutely fucked. Wait--the wire. He glanced back to the open wire panel, just to see a blinding flash of blue-white. Agony raced through his veins, and he fell back, head making contact with the electrified metal behind him. His eyes bulged, and his mouth fell open in a silent scream, limbs convulsing wildly.

_ Error: Organic Matter located in Quadrant three. DNA Analysis: Cadet Paul Stamets. Life Signs: Critical. Emergency Transport to Medbay activated. System rebooting.  _

That was the last thing Paul heard before the world turned black.

 

✭✩✭

 

The world came together slowly, in bits of sound and feeling. He first identified a slow hum, reminding him of the cultivator. Next followed a cacophony of beeping and whirring, too many sounds at once; the noises of murmured conversations and shouts from far away. Where was he? What was going on? He tried to move but his body didn’t seem to want to listen. His eyes wouldn’t open, but he felt like he could see flashes of light pass over his eyelids. Slowly, the noises around him seemed to settle, starting to make sense, and he could hear voices.

“Brain waves functioning as normal, patient should be waking up shortly.”

“Heart rate increasing to 95.”

Paul’s eyes finally managed to peel open, and the world around him swirled in a myriad of colors. Too bright, too white, and he winced, but he couldn’t feel the muscles of his face really respond and he closed his eyes again.

“Patient opened eyes at 12:41.”

“Paul, hello? Can you hear me?” Was someone talking to him? Paul struggled to remember the individual words said, pulling his eyes slowly once again. “That’s it, there you go.” A face with a gentle smile was hovering over him, warm brown eyes with wrinkles in the corners. “How are you feeling?”

Everything seemed to take too long to respond, liks his body couldn’t keep up with his head. His words slurred together, like molasses clung to his throat. “Where...am I?”

“You’re in the hospital, dear. My name is Lucia, do you know who you are?”

“Paul...Stamets.” His reaction time was slowly increasing, but every moment longer that he noticed the delay seemed to make panic rise in his heart. “What happened?” He struggled to sit up, eyes looking about rapidly, trying to use something to help him remember where he’d last been. 

A large, wrinkled hand gently settled on his shoulder and pushed him back down into the soft mattress. “You were in an accident dear, in Lab 27-A. Do you remember?”

At being told at least  _ something _ , the anxiety building up in his muscles and clawing through his throat seemed to settle for just a moment. His fingers tried to tap against the mattress, but they didn’t respond to his actions, only barely twitching. An accident? At the lab? He frowned, cataloging the things he last remembered. 

“I...remember going to the lab, with Professor Eburrack.” He then hesitated, once more trying to tap his only twitching fingers against the bed. “There was an error in the cultivation bay, so I went to fix it. While inside, I--” His voice broke off, as the last memories of the accident rushed into his head. “Is is the cultivator alright? Was its machinery damaged?” he asked quickly, and then almost like an afterthought, “Is Straal alright?”

Lucia smiled again, the soft expression calming Paul’s jittery nerves. “Both are fine, you were the only one injured.” She glanced away from him, over towards a nearby monitor, and was apparently satisfied with the results because she stood up, resting a hand on his upper arm for a few moments. “I’m going to have someone bring you something to eat, alright? You’ve been through a lot, and I promise we’ll tell you everything once your strength has returned some.”

Paul frowned at her words, but he could tell there was a steel in her old gaze that definitely meant he wouldn’t be able to convince her otherwise. As she left the room, he closed his eyes and relaxed into the bed, listening to the beeps of the various machines, trying to comprehend everything that happened. 

He was still slow, sluggish, his brain and muscles not quite syncing up. He must be on something, some sort of painkiller, but he still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened to him. He couldn’t feel anything. 

“Hey Paul.” Another voice, familiar, although he couldn’t immediately place it. “I’ve got some food here for you. I’m going to raise the bed, alright?”

Paul forced his eyes open again, looking to the side to see none other than Hugh Culber smiling down at him. He had a soft smile on his face, and there was a gentleness in his eyes that made Paul’s heart stutter. Hugh was holding a tray in one hand, and with the other he pressed pressed a button on the screen beside him, the bed rising up at an angle to let Paul sit up without having to move. 

Hugh set the tray above Paul’s lap on the bed -- it came on stilts to make it taller, how quaint. “I hope you’re hungry,” Hugh said, sitting in the chair beside the bed. “They’re going to make sure you keep to a strict diet while you’re here.” 

Paul looked at the food on the tray. It all looked very Starfleet-issued official, except, oh hey, was that a pudding cup? Perfect. It took Paul’s arms longer than he wanted to respond, but he suddenly realized he was  _ famished _ , and definitely wanted something to eat. He grabbed the cup with rather jerky movements, stabbing the spoon into it and taking a delicious bite of pudding before focusing his gaze back onto Hugh. 

“What are you doing here, Culber?” he asked curiously. 

Hugh smiled, but the expression was tight and professional. It wasn’t forced, but it seemed different than what Paul remembered seeing on his face before. “Just making sure you’re recovering alright, Stamets.” 

Paul nodded, taking another large helping of the pudding cup, and after two bites it was pretty much gone. There was a distance in his eyes, the painkillers slowing his brain processes just a little bit. “That makes sense. You work here, right?” He stabbed his spoon into the pudding cup again, only to realize it was empty. He glanced down at it, then back up to Hugh. “Can you get me another one of these?”

Hugh frowned, looking between the cup and the tray. “You need to eat everything else on that tray. A healthy diet will help you recover quickly.”

“Yes, I heard you the first time. Why can’t I just have another of these?” He waved around the pudding cup.

“There’s essential nutrients within everything else that you need to eat.”

Paul nodded, and he set the pudding cup down. “Yes but what about the nutrients in the pudding cup?”

Hugh stared blankly at him for a few moments, and the look on his face wavered between casually professional and deep-rooted concern. Paul had to hold back a snort of laughter at seeing it. “Compromise: you eat the rest of what’s on the tray, and I’ll get you a second pudding cup.”

Paul stared at him for a few more moments, before finally nodding. “Fine.” He glanced back over the tray, surveying the items. He glanced at Hugh for a moment, who seemed to just be waiting for him. Well, he’d manage being stared at. He replaced his spoon with the fork, stabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Don’t you have someplace to be? Something important to do?”

“Making sure you’re recovering fully is my top priority,” Hugh said, and although his voice sounded exhausted, and like he was trying to hide it, there was a simple sincerity in his voice that made Paul freeze for a moment.

Paul didn’t reply, slowly picking up the piece of fruit and chewing on it. Strawberry, was it? That was at least one of the few alright fruits. He stared at Hugh for a few moments, not exactly aware he was openly staring, as he let himself entertain the thought of growing closer to Hugh. 

There must have been some sort of reason as to why all he seemed to do was see Hugh Culber. Hugh had given him his number, hadn’t he? There was such a kindness in his eyes, it couldn’t have been a joke, right? But what if he was wrong, and Hugh was just a really nice man who gave off confusing signals, and fuck, Paul didn’t think he could handle any of this. 

Then came a new voice at the door, snapping Paul out of his thoughts. “Heeeeeeey Stamets, how you doin’?” Straal had appeared in the doorway, and Paul looked over at him in surprise.

“Straal? What are you doing here?” Paul asked.

Before Straal could reply, Hugh stood up abruptly. His expression had changed, and it seemed cold, apathetic. “I remembered I have a second patient to check up on. I’ll leave you two alone.” 

Paul’s gaze turned to Hugh, watching him walk away with panic written across his face. He wanted to say something, to tell Hugh to not leave, to ask him what was wrong, but before the words could untangle from his throat, Hugh had brushed past Straal in the doorway, nearly hitting him.

Straal watched Hugh go before turning back to Paul. “Yeah uh, he’s just always here? Every time I’ve come in he just fucking takes off though. No clue what crawled up his ass and died.” Straal grabbed the chair that Hugh had just been sitting in, spinning it around and straddling it, resting his arms against the backing. “Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

Paul nodded slowly. Always there? What was Hugh doing? Looking after him? That made something warm seem to seep into Paul. But then he remembered the way Hugh’s expression had darkened. He slowly set the fork down on the tray. His insides were twisting, an unpleasant feeling settling within him, and he hated it, the way his emotions were thrown about so easily. 

Straal looked guilty, which was a new expression for him. “About what happened in the lab, I-” 

Paul shook his head. “It’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes. You make more than most, and I always expect less than great results from you.” 

Straal scowled. “I’m trying to apologise for nearly fucking murdering you, but you’re making it pretty hard.”

“Don’t bother apologising, it’s not worth it. Words are meaningless,” Paul said bluntly, looking away from Straal to analyze the room he was in. As he looked around, he noticed a pile of mushrooms on the side table. Paul’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion before looking over to Straal.

Straal shrugged. “They-I mean you-looked lonely. So I figured you could give each other some company.” 

Paul snorted. “You’re only making the rumours that I talk to mushrooms worse.”

Straal raised an eyebrow. “Rumours? You fucking talk to the mushrooms daily, like they’re your diary.” 

“Fuck off. Mushrooms are better than people,” Paul retorted. 

Straal grinned. “There’s the Stamets I know. Hey, speaking of mushrooms, I’ve uhhhhhh, sorta been banned from the lab, since the whole you know, nearly killing you thing.”

Paul sighed. “Of course. I’ll talk to the Professor, and get you back in. Did you bring my PADD?”

Straal nodded. “Updated with all our latest data trends, since I’m sure you’re dying--get it? Since you’re not dying?--anyway, to know what’s been happening these last few days.” Straal reached into his bag, pulling out Paul’s PADD and helpfully handing it over. 

Paul breathed a sigh of relief, turning it on and sinking back into the mattress, feeling more relaxed than before. “I’ll send a message to Eburrack now. The cultivator is still functioning, yes?”

Straal nodded. “Of course. Eb himself fixed it up after you were taken here.”

Paul looked over the data, nodding slowly at his words. Suddenly his gaze snapped back up to Straal. “Wait, what did you say earlier?”

“Uhhh, that I need you to let me back into the lab?”

“No, no. How long was I out for? Days?” He could feel panic start to claw up his throat again. Everything would be ruined! “The spores, the rotations we had to do, the reports we had to send back to the Academy, everything is behind!” Paul began rapidly tapping on his PADD. “We’re going to have to get our asses in check if we want to even graduate on time at this rate! We’re going to have to work for a solid week straight-”

“Whoah, whoah. Stamets, calm down. I’m sure if we just talk to-”

“Calm down? Our research is on the line!” Paul snapped, his hand gripping the PADD tightly. His brain was still too slow, he couldn’t do everything he needed to. He needed to leave, to be back home. There wasn’t any time he could waste in the hospital. 

The monitor at Paul’s bedside started rapidly beeping, and Paul glanced at it before quickly shoving the PADD under the blanket that was covering him, shooting Straal a warning look. Straal held up hands up placatingly.

“I’ve got it!” a voice shouted from the hallway right outside the door before Hugh appeared, quickly coming over to Paul’s bedside, practically stepping right in front of Straal, looking between him and the monitor. “Are you alright?” 

Paul nodded. “Yep, just fine. Why do you ask?”

Hugh pointed at the screen. “Your heart rate rose to 120, which alarmed the system. “ He glanced back at Straal, his expression looking accusing, before softening again when he looked at Paul. “Did something happen?”

“Just me reminding Straal how much of an idiot he is. It’s all fine.” 

Hugh didn’t look like he believed him, and he looked back at Straal. “Visiting hours are over, you should leave.”

Straal scowled. “Fuck you, it’s only 1300.”

Hugh’s gaze turned cold. “You’ve put my patient in distress, and he’s just barely woken from a coma. I have the jurisdiction here to kick you out, which I’m using. Should I call security again?” 

Straal stood up, kicking the chair, where it hit Hugh in the leg. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Fine, whatever.” He glanced at Paul. “I’ll be back later.”

Paul seemed confused, his gaze flickering  between Hugh and Straal. “...Alright. Go to the lab and check on the latest batch. They should be ready sometime...soon?” Paul winced, rubbing his forehead. Pain seemed to be slowly seeping into his every pore. Something must be wearing off. 

Hugh seemed much calmer when Straal had left. Did something happen between the two of them? 

“Culber,” Paul began, lowering his arm back to his side. Every action seemed to make another stab of pain rocket through his head. “How long was I out for?” 

“You were in a medically induced coma for three days. It was required to ensure that the tissue reconstructor would operate properly.” Hugh pressed a button on the monitor, and a few moments later, a nurse appeared in the doorway, coming to join Hugh at the console.

“A medically induced coma?” Paul sputtered. “For three days??” 

The nurse turned to Paul, a smile on his face. It seemed pretty fake. “Cadet Stamets, I need you to eat everything on that tray in front of you, please.”

“What? Why? What if I’m simply not hungry?” Paul felt nothing but immediate hatred towards the nurse. He knew how to live his own life.

“Your body requires nutrients, and without the proper amount, I can’t safely give you a higher dosage of the painkiller you’re on.” He tapped the screen. “It’s already begun to wear off, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. So just finish it all up, and everything will be better, okay?” 

The nurse paused for a moment, glancing at Hugh. There was a slight accusation in his tone, but it was well hidden. “Our cadet here will make sure you’re doing well, and ensure you actually eat everything before he leaves.” He glanced back at Paul with another smile. “I’ll be back soon.” 

When Paul looked at Hugh again, Hugh looked like he was embarrassed. Then again, that was behind his solid professional mask, which was impressive to say the least. 

There was a lapse of silence, where Paul picked up the fork again and stabbed a piece of fruit. The sooner he got this all over with, the sooner he could return to his lab. He chewed thoughtfully on his second piece of fruit for the day. 

“Culber, you clearly seem exhausted,” he said as he picked up another piece of bright blue fruit. What even was it? “I’m sure Starfleet has no use for a cadet in your state. You should return home.” 

Hugh’s back immediately straightened when Paul said something, the lines on his face smoothing out. “I have a job to do, it’s fine.”

Paul raised an eyebrow, chewing through the piece of fruit slowly. Pain was slowly crawling its way through his body, and his face twisted up. “Your work saves lives. I believe there’s an amount of alertness that such finesse requires.” 

Hugh smiled at Paul, and the expression was so perfectly made, exhaustion erasing from his features, stress disappearing from his eyes, that it almost worried Paul more. “You were in a tissue reconstructor for three days. You should be worried about yourself.”

Paul wasn’t worried in the slightest. “Please, I’m in perfectly capable hands. If I so much as breathe incorrectly, 50 people would rush into the room.” 

Hugh sighed, but the smile on his face seemed more real. Paul liked that. “Alright, you win. I’ll go home when the nurse comes back.”

Paul nodded, satisfied. “Good.” He finished off the rest of the fruit in silence, and a carrot or two, before looking over the rest of the items on the tray. “I can’t eat anymore of it.”

Hugh frowned. “You really should.”

Paul shook his head, putting the fork down and looking up at the ceiling. “No.”

“You should at least-”

“No,” Paul cut him off, tone holding a note of finality. 

Hugh stared at him for a few more moments, before leaning over to the holographic console and pressing the call nurse button. 

It took a minute for the same nurse from before to reappear. “How are we doing?” There was a too-friendly smile on his face, and a too-happy lilt to his voice.

Paul scowled over at him.  “I have no wish to be patronized,” he snapped. 

The nurse’s smile didn’t waver as he walked over to the console, Hugh stepping aside to accommodate him. “If you don’t feel like eating everything now, you’ll have to make it up later.” The nurse was quickly looking over a few charts of rapidly spiking lines. Probably the levels of his irritation, which were constantly at large. The too perky tone was still there, grinding against Paul’s nerves. 

“I don’t care. Whatever clears me the quickest, I have to return to the lab immediately.” 

“You’ll be here for at least 48 hours; your body needs time to rest and recover from the intensive reconstructing. This is the easiest way to monitor your vitals incase something goes wrong.” The nurse picked up a hypospray. “Don’t move.”

“What?!” Paul exclaimed, eyes going wide. “No! Impossible, there’s no time for me to just sloth about.” 

The nurse placed one hand on his shoulder, not commenting on his outburst. “Don’t move,” he repeated, before pressing the hypospray against Paul’s neck; immediately, relaxation flowed through Paul’s muscles.

His eyelids drooped, words stopping for a moment before he continued in a low murmur. “I have...so much to do. There’s simply no...time.” He was so tired; a little nap couldn’t hurt. His eyes fell shut, and everything went dark. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up this time was a lot less panic-inducing. Everything felt like it should have, if only a little numb. Paul didn’t hear anything around him except the gentle hums and beeps of technology, so he slowly opened his eyes, staring across the medbay blankly for a few moments. The room he was in was mercifully empty, at least as far as he could tell. He pulled his PADD out from the blanket, flicking it on and blinking the grime of drowsy sleep out of his eyes.

Focus, Stamets. First, he had to message Professor Eburrack and tell him to let Straal back into the lab. He went into his emails, scanning through the list quickly before he saw a bright red exclamation point, notifying him of an important email. 

Immediately, he began to dread the worst. Of course, with this setback in his research, there was a high probability that they’d set him back, or require him to do a second internship elsewhere and prevent him from participating in next semester’s classes. Fuck. He tapped his fingers against the back of the PADD rapidly, the metallic clicking noise giving him the energy he needed to open the message.

_ Cadet Stamets, _

_ Based upon recent events in Lab 27-A and your injury, the Board of Directors has seen fit to officially complete the requirement for your Internship on Alpha Centauri. Dr. Eburrack sent in the report cataloging the research you had completed, and deemed your results exceptionally well done.  _

_ We wish you the best of luck in your recovery, and are expecting to see you back on campus when the semester starts. _

_ Well done Cadet Stamets. _

_ Mary Sugal _

_ Chief of Student Affairs _

Paul stared blankly at the email, not quite comprehending it at first. Finished? His internship was just completed? What about all of the reports he never finished? He was barely halfway done with the total work level he’d planned on completing. His analysis wasn’t even finished. How could they consider that completed? Perhaps he should write to them, explaining why he needed to finish the reports he was doing. He exited out of the message, prepared to draft a new one when his eyes were drawn to the second message listed. From...Hugh Culber.

Paul hesitated for a moment, glancing around. No one had come to check up on him yet, and his limbs felt numb-ish enough he probably had at least 5 minutes. He clicked open the message.

_ Hello, Paul! It was my pleasure to help you out. Thank you for reaching out about the mug, though--it’s one of my favorites. I’m sure you’re very busy, so just let me know when you’re free and I can stop by to pick it up (provided, of course, you’re sober enough to tell me which dorm you’re in). Thanks! _

Paul felt embarrassment flush over his cheeks. He wished that he could both remember everything that happened that night, to apologise for it all, but also to forget everything and not have to live with the horrifying knowledge of how he’d embarrassed himself. He rested his head back against the bed, looking up at the ceiling. 

There was no way he could reply now. He was sure he’d see Hugh again, since they were both in the hospital. He’d simply tell him in person to grab it sometime. He was sure Straal could at least open the front door.

Except that they seemed to hate each other. What had happened to cause such a strange rift? Perhaps it was always there, and the two knew each other? He tapped his fingers against the back of the PADD, thinking. Well, it wasn’t important. He had work that needed doing.

Was it possible to get coffee like this? Probably not the way he liked it. He was awake enough now anyway, it was no matter. Straal had sent him the lab reports from the last few days, and he was more than happy to go over them and begin tracking down the repeating patterns. He was just settling into the routine when he heard footsteps approaching.

“Cadet Stamets? Or would you prefer Paul? I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you were awake earlier.” Lucia, her nametag said Dr. Jimenez, smiled at him from the doorway, a PADD held in one hand. 

“Ah, Paul is fine, thank you.” Paul glanced at his PADD for a moment before clicking the screen off and setting it down beside him. “Can I help you?”

Lucia smiled at him, coming into the room and setting her PADD down on the table beside the monitoring console. “I just wanted to check on you today, see how you’ve been doing.” 

Paul nodded. “I’ve been fine. There’s been nothing abnormal.”

Lucia gave him a wry smile, one of understanding from years of experience that a man was lying through his teeth. “You’ve been on painkillers, it’s unlikely you’d feel anything unordinary. Just relax, Paul. It will make this whole process go over easier.” She looked down at the PADD held in his hands. “You’ve passed the requirement you have for your internship here, so there’s no reason to rush your recovery.”

Paul bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t...think that matters. Even if Starfleet claims they believe my work here is done, my research is hardly half-finished, and I refuse to leave anything half-done that has my name upon it.”

Lucia nodded, understanding and compassion filling every wrinkle on her face. “Of course, Paul.” Usually, such words would fill Paul with a searing anger, patronizing messages meant to placate him, but somehow she only served to calm him. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as it’s safe for you.” She looked at the screen beside him again. “Have you been eating properly?”

Paul was taken aback by her words. “What do you mean?” 

“You have low levels of vitamins in your body. It was worrisome during the reconstruction, but your body managed to just barely pull through it. You were quite lucky, young man.”

“I’ve managed thus far. It’s not that large of a worry. I’ll deal with it when I go back home.” Irritation was digging into his tone. He didn’t need people digging into his personal life and questioning him.

Lucia shook her head. “You won’t pass Starfleet’s physical exam with these numbers, Paul. I realize that being an Academy student is rigorous, however, that’s no excuse to neglect your well-being. Being put through the reconstructor, as amazing of a piece of machinery as it is, has adverse effects as well. The process weakens your immune system, and with a body lacking the proper nutrients, it’s an open door for illnesses. ” Lucia spoke casually, as if it wasn’t alarming that his immune system was attacked. She dragged her finger along the screen, pulling through a different set of files. The angle was set perfectly so that Paul couldn’t see it without straining his neck. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary happened to you over the last night, so I think-”

“Wait, last night?” Paul frowned, grabbing onto his PADD to check the date and time. 0837. “How long was I asleep for?” 

“About 20 hours, which is perfectly normal. Now Paul, if you can promise me that you’ll  _ rest  _ and take care of yourself, I think we can have you released in the next few days. You’ll be shaky on your feet for probably another day. If your toes or fingers feel numb for more than 36 hours, you’ll need to immediately return. However,” She looked back at him with a smile. “You seem healthy enough to be let free.” 

Lucia stood up slowly, the action straining her old bones. She gently pat his shoulder. “We’ll get you some food, and I’ll see you again tonight to clear you out. Rest well.” 

Paul nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Doctor.” What a bother. All he wanted to do was continue his research, but it seemed the world was set against him. He sighed heavily, picking up his PADD once again. He’d just have to get as much as he could done while he could. 

Paul relaxed into his work, pleasantly surprised that no one seemed to bother him for a decent amount of time.  Really he had no concept of how long that was, as he didn’t bother to check the time. Eventually, someone came in. Some cadet, that he vaguely recognized from a class or two. He glanced at them dismissively for a moment. “Go away, I’m busy.”

“You’re-”

“I don’t care. Leave,” Paul droned, flicking through another report page. The other cadet scowled, looked ready to argue but decided against it, turning away after flipping him off. This happened a few more times, different or the same cadets, he didn’t care. He was busy.  He continued typing away, and when someone would check up on him and he noticed they were a cadet, he simply ignored them.

Finally, someone came in who wasn’t a cadet. Paul glanced away from his PADD for a moment, narrowing his eyes at them.

“Cadet Stamets, I’m here to double check your vitals and give you another dose of painkillers.” The nurse, someone who Paul had never seen before, smiled at him as she walked over to the console.

Paul frowned. “That is unnecessary, I’ve felt no pain, and have plenty I need to get done.”

The nurse shook her head. “No can do. You might not feel it now, but I promise you that you’ll feel it in a few hours, and you don’t want to be awake then. It’ll knock you out for a bit, but it’s the easiest way to let the body heal.” She took out a hypospray, inspecting it for a few moments before turning towards him.

Paul’s scowl deepend, and he leveled his coldest glare at her. She had an award-winning smile to match.

“You’re still a cadet in a Starfleet-Issued hospital, Stamets. You have to listen to orders on a certain level. Now, don’t move, alright?” She gently placed the hypospray against his neck, and it took mere moments for exhaustion to seep into his limbs. 

“I hate Starfleet,” Paul mumbled, letting his eyes fall closed. He could feel the nurse taking his PADD, and heard her place it gently on the table beside him, but he soon was asleep.

 

✭✩✭

He was beginning to grow annoyed of waking up after being dead asleep due to some drug pumping through his blood. His muscles felt weak and useless, and it took so long for his eyes to open up, but when he finally managed to, everything seemed to rush  back in at once, and he could feel his fingers again and his head throbbed in pain for a moment before he relaxed, and woke up fully. He’d been lying down too long and everything was growing numb, just from unmoving for too many days, too much time. He just wanted to go home. He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face, feeling terrible. 

He spotted his PADD on the table, just slightly out of reach. That was fine, he’d do it. He reached over, fingers just barely scraping the edge of it. He leaned over a bit further, and nearly fell off the bed as he just managed to grab it and pull it over to him. 

Paul breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back into the bed as he turned on the PADD, going back to his research from before. It was relaxing, being able to just lie back and analyze data. Even if he didn’t have to, because his internship was considered “complete,” he knew he couldn’t stop halfway.

After some time, he remembered he hadn’t spoken to Straal. He quickly sent a message to him, informing him he’d be returning home that following night. He opened up the new data sheet to get an instant reply from Straal.

_ Dude, you’re already coming back? You’ve been there for barely a few days, are you sure that’s safe??  _ Straal typed immediately.

Paul frowned, switching to the message and typing a response.  _ My body will heal no matter where I am. Once in the apartment, I can continue to work while I recover. Since when have you cared about my physical state? _

While Straal was typing a reply, Paul shifted back to the data patterns, scribbling down thoughts and circling key points. 

_ Uhhh maybe because you nearly died? Dude I got a glimpse of you when they first brought you in there. It was bad. There was a 50/50 chance of you just dying because of the damage. Doctors around the clock for the first like, 40 hours. _

Paul read over the message. He hadn’t known that. He felt fine, which he guessed was a miracle of modern technology.  _ Well, I’m alive now. There’s no use in wasting time. Pick the place up, I’m sure you’ve left it a mess in my absence. _

_ Alriiiiiiiight, fine, you win. By the way, just because Starfleet made your life all nice and dandy and said you finished your requirement, they didn’t do that shit for me. I’m going to still need all the data. You’re a better analytic than me, did you see the latest tables? I found at least a 25% increase in production since we spliced the last few genes together two weeks ago. _

Paul frowned, flipping back to the data charts and searching over them.  _ Yes, I see what you mean. Be sure to compare them to our spores from week one as well, since the latest data charts already compensate for the increasing trends from last week. I predict it’s a least a 36% total increase since day one. Also, you should nevermind someone coming, call later.  _ Paul clicked the send button before looking up at the doorway, having just seen movement through the windows to the hallway.

“Hey Stamets, nice to see you again.” Hugh was back again, but he seemed more relaxed than the first time. Good, maybe he’d actually gotten some sleep. 

“Hello Culber. I see you’re back here again.” Paul glanced down at his PADD to see a  _ Gotcha, I’ll send you my numbers in a few hours _ from Straal. Perhaps Straal would finally pull his end of the weight. 

Hugh walked into the room, carrying a tray just like before. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I took a guess.” He set the tray down carefully on the bed. It included a bottle of water, which Paul grabbed first. He hadn’t realized how dehydrated he felt until he saw the bottle sitting there. He unscrewed it and took a large gulp of water.

Hugh sat down in the chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?” 

Paul shrugged. “Fine,” he said blandly. “As well as one could be in this sort of state.” 

Hugh nodded, and looked relieved when Paul put the water down, picked up the sandwich and took a bite of it. “That’s good. You’ll be going back home tomorrow.” There was a hesitation in his voice.

Hesitation annoyed Paul to no end. “What? Spit it out,” he snapped. “I don’t have all day.”

“If you need any help, like if anything is wrong, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be there, especially if,” there was a moment of hesitation in Hugh’s voice, and thinly veiled anger, “Straal doesn’t bother to do anything.”

Paul snorted, trying to laugh while in the middle of eating. He quickly swallowed, embarrassed by the sound he made but forging through it. “Straal? Please, I don’t think he’d care if I collapsed on the ground in the kitchen right in front of him. Unless it damaged our spores, of course.” 

Anger seemed to light up in Hugh’s eyes. “Your boyfriend should care about your well-being, Paul.” Right as the words came out of his throat, Hugh looked like he regretted them, face twisting in guilt.

Paul’s eyes widened in shock, and he choked on his bite of sandwich. 

Hugh jumped up, but Paul quickly waved him away, grabbing the bottle of water. 

His face was a beet red as he swallowed water quickly and coughed, wheezing and trying to collect himself. 

“My what?” he finally managed to ask. “Straal is my roommate and my research partner. What on earth gave you the notion we were dating?”

Hugh had a bright blush creeping over his face. “Well, I just thought, I…” Hugh stuttered through his words, for once seeming at a loss for them. “So--so you don’t have a boyfriend?”

Paul’s face was turning a brighter red. “I-I don’t, no.” 

Hugh was silent for a beat, quickly collecting himself. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional. I don’t mean to presume about your personal life.” It was almost admirable, how quickly he managed to transition back. Of course, he had to break code in the first place, but really, most people can’t hold up to standard.

Paul gave him a thin smile that he didn’t really feel. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. It’s easy to assume when I only have one friend.”

“And here I was thinking we were growing friendly,” Hugh replied. 

Once again, Hugh’s words managed to catch Paul off guard. The banter he was used to often involved a back and forth of who could insult the other the greatest; Paul always won. Even with Straal, he knew the two of them were friends but they never actively  _ said  _ so. Every time Hugh said things so earnestly, Paul had no idea how to respond. He wasn’t a nice person, so he couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t scathing to reply back with.

So usually, he just settled on something general. “Are we? Oh.” He glanced at the mostly-eaten sandwich, but he was done with that after having choked on it, and picked up a carrot stick instead, biting into that. Nothing like the excuse of eating to not have to speak.

Hugh didn’t say anything before Paul was finished chewing, and although Paul usually loved silence, this one felt too awkward. “So, I still have to return your mug.”

Hugh smiled, looking relieved for something to talk about. “It’s not a big deal, you can give it back to me some time when you’re out.”

Paul nodded, grabbing another carrot. “Technically true, yes. I would usually just tell my roommate to grab it, or have you go there and give it to him. However...you two don’t seem to get along. Did something happen?” 

Hugh shrugged, trying to look as casual as possible. “When he came in here after you’d been transported, he admitted he’d been the one to cause this to happen to you. I...considered him a threat. You nearly died, it was an apt enough guess.”

Paul scoffed. “Straal’s done far stupider things. It’s just not often I’m caught up in them.” He didn’t often enjoy talking just for the sake of talking, but something about Hugh made him want to keep conversing. Without realizing it, he continued to slowly eat, whittling away at the items on his plate as he spoke. “There’s a chance you’ll be waiting a while. For your mug, that is. I have a lot of research I need to catch up on, and there will be many a sleepless night as I attempt to finish up.”

Hugh frowned. “Increasing your levels of stress and sleep-deprivation will have the opposite effect of what you need.”

Paul shrugged, uncaring. “My research is more important than my well-being.”

Hugh frowned, and he managed to look so sad, Paul thought he looked like a kicked puppy. “That’s not true.” 

“My research will revolutionize space-travel. There’s no reason my singular existence is more important than that.” Paul leaned back, feeling full. There was less than half of the food on the tray still, which was more than enough in his eyes. “Which is why I need to return to it as quickly as possible.”

Hugh glanced at the tray, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not going to happen at this rate.”

Paul scowled, tapping a message to Straal, along the lines of  _ I fucking hate Starfleet _ , as he glanced back up at Hugh. “Why is that?”

“There’s still worry about the spikes in your vitals since you’ve come out of the reconstructor.” Hugh lightly tapped against the screen. “You won’t be cleared until at least tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Paul snapped, glancing down at his PADD when he got a message back.

_ Agreed. We can throw a mutiny together. _ Paul smiled slightly at the message, trying not to laugh. 

“I think it is,” Hugh interjected, breaking Paul off from his possible-mutiny attempts.

Paul leveled his coldest glare at Hugh. It worked on the other cadets, sent them running off, and he hoped it’d work on Hugh too. However, Hugh just stared back at him, determination clear in his face. Paul’s scowl deepened, until he finally looked away.

“Fine, whatever,” he snapped. “Let the future of science die.”

“A single night won’t change the future of science,” Hugh replied, voice far too calm. It sparked irritation in Paul, who crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed. 

“What do you expect me to do for the next--what, twelve, twenty-four, odd hours? There’s absolutely nothing here.”

“Relax, Stamets. The body can’t handle constant extreme levels of stress. If you really want to get out of here faster, you’ll need to just accept what the doctors here tell you to do.”

Paul attempted to calm his sparking nerves; anger never convinced anyone in the medical track he was right. “I’m fine.” He kept his voice at a clipped, cool level. “Really. All of this isn’t necessary.” 

“The medical professionals disagree,” Hugh replied. “Their opinion is the one that matters. The more you defy them, the longer you’ll have to stay.”

Paul huffed, glancing down at the new message that popped up on his PADD as he spoke, “All you’re telling me to do is eat my carrots. That hardly seems beneficial.” 

Straal’s commentary was a merciful blessing keeping him alive through this day. 

_ Is it that little cadet bitch? If he’s giving you trouble I’ll--okay I can’t kick his ass he’s fucking ripped but I’ll sure as hell file away a complaint.  _

“If you ate anything with nutritional value, we wouldn’t have to insist on a better diet,” Hugh said, and it made Paul look away from his PADD and up at Hugh. That had a little bit of a bite to it. Was Hugh worried? He wasn’t sure what to think about that, but it was...charming. “It...would just behoove you to be more aware of what you’re consuming.”

Paul didn’t feel the need to grace that with a reply, instead glancing back down at his PADD to reply to Straal with a huff.

_ Not necessary. I can handle him easily. You just need to know the right buttons to push.  _

As Paul typed and hit send, Hugh had grabbed the tray. “I’ll come see you again in a few hours.” Hugh paused for a moment, but it sounded like he had more to say, so Paul glanced away from his PADD for a moment, looking him over.  “You should take food from the other cadets, too. My shift is almost over.”

Paul snorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “What’s the point?” he asked, tapping his fingers against the edge of his PADD. “They all run away as soon as I look at them.” Slightly exaggerated, but true nonetheless. 

“Think of it this way: if you eat at least some of the food they give you, you’ll get to leave sooner. It’s a win-win,” Hugh replied.

Paul looked at him for a few moments, judging what sort of response to give. “Mmm.” His eyes flickered back down to his PADD as he saw the latest reply Straal had sent, fighting the blush that wanted to rise to his cheeks as he read it.

_ What happened to that hot dude? Gimme his number and I’ll send him your way. Nothing like a romantic mushroom of ‘please don’t die I love you’ am I right?  _

Paul looked back up at Hugh quickly, staring at him for a few moments. He definitely wanted to be alone after that. “...I’ll consider it.” He finally conceded to Hugh’s words, although if he was honest, he was probably lying. The rest of the cadets could go fuck themselves. 

“That’s all I ask,” Hugh said, and Paul could almost hear the relief in his voice. Paul didn’t look up at him as Hugh said, “I’ll see you in a bit, Stamets,” and left the room. Paul breathed a sigh of relief, closing his eyes for a moment and collecting himself. Finally he opened his eyes and looked down at the PADD again, seeing another message from Straal.

_ Well? Don’t just leave me on fucking read, idiot. Where is your handsome hunk?  _

Paul groaned, tapping his fingers against the edge of the PADD rapidly, trying to think of the best way to answer. There was no way out of this situation. He knew Straal wasn’t bluffing, and if he made someone up, Straal would definitely try to look them up. He’d just...have to give him the truth, as horrible as that idea sounded.

_ He’s in the hospital. _

The reply from Straal was instantaneous.

_ What the fuck? Did he get a heart attack the second he saw you, ooooor? DETAILS! _

Paul snickered, before typing back his reply.

_ You’ve seen him here before, you know. _

Straal was far too invested in the conversation, giving another instant reply:  _ What the fuck? Am I going to have to list off every single fucking hot guy I saw? Because that’s a lot, thanks. Actually, I hope it’s not any of them. I’ve had sex with all of them?? Who the fuck?? _

Paul rolled his eyes as he typed back.  _ Take a wild guess. _

Straal apparently didn’t want to take a wild guess, because the next reply was:  _ If you don’t pick up I’ll kick your little mushroom ass. _ Then he had a call incoming from Straal. _ Fuck. _ He reluctantly accepted the call, and Straal’s face popped up over his screen.

“Stamets! What the fuck is it with you and withholding details? I’d tell you the intricate details of every single one of my escapades if you aske-”

“Do not,” Paul immediately interrupted, scowling. “I have no wish to hear any of that.”

Straal laughed, and the vision Paul had of him was suddenly rapidly shaking, moving around. “Gimme a sec. Lemme set you up over here so I can keep working.” The camera evened out again to show most of Straal, in an apron and wearing gloves, goggles casually around his neck. 

“Wh-are you in the lab?” Paul asked, wishing the screen showed more details.

“Yes, of course. Like I said, I have a lot I still need to get done. Not all of us get to play Sleeping Beauty.” Straal bent down over a microscope, writing awkwardly on tech beside him without looking up. “I have work to do.”

Paul scowled. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if  _ someone  _ followed the proper safety protocols. Who just assumes the cultivator was turned off for no reason?!”

“I said I was sorry! You’re fine, it’s not even a big deal. I got you out of your internship early, I think you should thank me.” 

“I’d return the favour by letting you nearly die of chemical burns, but I’m afraid my reputation matters to me,” Paul snapped.

“Please. You and I both have perfect track records. Starfleet knows they need us--wait, I called you to ask about your hot almost-boyfriend. Who is he?” Straal looked up from the microscope to grin at Paul. “You almost distracted me there.” 

Paul’s scowl deepend. “You should be focusing on your job. If you mess up-”

“Fuck off. I never mess up--when it comes to mushrooms, anyway. Who is it?  I didn’t see anyone introducing themselves as ‘Hugh the hot guy’ Soooo...”

Paul sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, waiting for death to embrace him. “Culber.”

There was a beat of silence from Straal. When Paul opened his eyes to look at him, absolute shock was written across his face. Well, at least Paul was somewhat capable of keeping a secret. 

“The dude who keeps nearly killing me every time I get within 5 feet of you? The same dude who’s just always there, watching you like a creeper every moment you’ve been in the hospital?”

Paul blinked. “I don’t think-”

“He’s so fucking gay for you then. No other explanation.” 

Paul sputtered, face immediately turning red. “H-He’s a student in the medical track!  That’s his job!” He glanced around the room quickly, gaze landing on the windows to the hallway next. He had to make sure no one was list--what? His gaze immediately connected to Hugh, who was walking past the hallway, carrying something. 

In that moment, Hugh managed to balance his box in one hand, giving Paul a bright smile and a wave as he walked out of view. Paul rapidly looked between Straal and the window.

“...I-”

“He was there, wasn’t he?” Straal asked with a cheshire grin.

“I’m ending the call,” Paul said, immediately pressing the disconnect button before Straal could even reply. He rested his head back against the pillow, staring out across the hospital. A message popped up on his PADD, of course from Straal.

_ I’m calling again in three hours. You’re not getting out of this that easily, Stamets. _

Paul groaned, closing his eyes. Maybe he should take a nap. That would certainly simplify everything for him. He let his thoughts wander about, between his research, the classes he had to take this upcoming semester, and Hugh Culber. Mercifully, however, sleep seemed to claim him quickly.

✭✩✭

Paul was jolted awake by the loud ringing and buzzing of the PADD against his chest. He groaned, blindly grabbing it and pressing the accept call button before he even opened his eyes. “What the _fuck_ Straal?”  
“I told you three hours. Time’s up.” Straal sounded delighted to have woken up Paul from his sleep. “I’m no true love’s kiss, but I’m sure you’ll get that soon enough.”

“Oh shut up.” Paul rubbed his eyes before blinking them open slowly. “What do you want?”

“To help you get your love life in check. I know Culber’s roommate, you know. We’ve done some st--”

“Please, do  _ not  _ enlighten me with your sex life,” Paul interjected. “My headache is far too annoying for me to care. Not that I would care even if I didn’t have a headache. I haven’t left this bed in days, and I’ve forgotten what coffee tastes like.”

Straal laughed. “That’s good, considering how shitty you make it.” 

“I don’t need  _ you  _ of all people lecturing me on healthy eating, Straal. Have you even eaten anything today?”

“...Listen, I’ve been in the lab since nineteen hundred. I’m a bit busy here.”

Paul shrugged. “That’s not even that long. If you want to finish your report in time, you’ll probably need at least another five hours.”

“I know!” Straal snapped, glaring at him through the screen. “I don’t need you to remind me. You took the easier half of the assignment.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who begged me to do the data analytics, Straal.”

“You and I both know you can notice patterns way faster than I can. But I’m literally splicing genes together. Little bit harder than reading a couple reports.”

“A  _ couple _ reports? The machines give out thousands of pages of data a day. The code that  _ I  _ created is the only thing keeping your half of the experiment running!” Paul glared at Straal through the screen. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Needless to say, I need to put in work actually in the lab a lot more than you do. So if you could you know, send me your trends? It’d kinda help me out.”

“Oh, because you actually need me? Isn’t your job better than mine?”

Straal groaned, looking back up from his microscope. “Stamets, please.” 

Paul glanced around the room, looking for something to rip him free of boredom before he had an idea, and looked back at the screen. “Sure, if you can beat me in a game of chess,” he said with a smirk.

Straal stared at him for a few moments. “Fine, you’re on.” He turned off the machine he was working at, grabbing his PADD, causing the camera view Paul had to swing about wildly. “I’m getting a cup of coffee for this shit, though. I’ve been up way longer than you.” 

There was a crashing sound, and Paul winced. “Please, do not destroy the only coffee maker our lab has left.” 

“Fuck off, I didn’t destroy the coffee maker.” There was a thud as Straal chucked his PADD onto the table, and then his face reappeared moments later, sipping from a large mug of coffee. “Alright, let’s go. I need those data trends.”

“I hope you’re ready to lose again,” Paul said as he started the game up, the chess board appearing holographically above his PADD’s screen, Straal’s image helpfully appearing beside it. 

“You lost our last game, don’t forget. That means you get the first move this time.” 

Paul moved one of his pawns as he looked over the 3D board. “That was an outlier, and should not be counted in my statistics.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, okay.” Straal did his first move, and the two of them descended into silence for at least half an hour, each carefully picking moves, manipulating the board, neither able to gain a quick upper hand.

Straal carefully moved one of his knights, before he looked away from the board to Paul. “So, how is it having your crush take care of your every need?”

Paul scowled over at him. He picked up and moved one of his pieces. “Check.” 

“Fuck you, you used that trick last time too.” Straal moved one of his pawns, saving himself from an untimely demise. “You have to ask him out. I’m giving you 48 hours before I’m going to ask him for you. And the dude hates my guts, so that probably won’t go over well.”

Paul stopped before making his next move, glaring at the screen. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed out.

Straal smirked, leaning against the counter and leaning his face into the camera. “Try me, Stamets.”

“I’m going to be here for at least another damn 12 hours, so at least give me a little longer.”

“What, do you want me to drop it to 40? Don’t negotiate with me, you don’t have anything to give.”

Paul angrily moved his bishop, glaring. “Fuck you.”

“Not my job. You’ll have someone to do that for you in the next few days, though.” Straal grinned wolfishly as he stole one of Paul’s knights. 

“Oh, I’ll have someone that can fuck you?” Paul asked. “Great. Exactly what I needed.” Paul took one of Straal’s pawns next.

There was silence from Straal for a moment, shock written across his face before he burst into loud laughter, clutching his sides. “Damn! I didn’t think you had humour like that in you!”

Paul refused to dignify that with a response, and simply focused on the game. There were a couple times that Straal kept trying to get a rise out of him, get him to say something, but Paul refused to speak. The two of them were playing a very close game, and each trade-off seemed to gain no upper hand.

A concentrated furrow slowly formed between Paul’s eyebrows as the game went on. Until finally, he smiled just slightly. “Check,” he said, giving a fake-yawn, just to annoy Straal.

“Bullshit,” Straal snapped. “Where?”

Paul gestured blandly at the screen. “E5-3. My knight. Use your eyes.”

Straal stared over the board. “I’m using them. Maybe you should use  _ yours.  _ That’s my queen, dumbass.” 

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is it?”  He reached out and captured Straal’s queen easily with one of his pieces. “Not anymore.”

“Damnit, Stamets!” Straal glared at him through the projection. 

Paul shrugged loosely, feeling a surge of satisfaction at having finally gotten a one-up on Straal. “You should’ve moved her.” He felt a presence at the doorway then, and glanced over. Oh, fuck. He fought the immediate panic, and blush, that wanted to rise to his face as he quickly composed himself. “Culber. You’re back.” 

“I am,” Hugh said, looking slightly uneasy, still in the doorway and glancing between Paul and the projection of Straal. “I have your lunch.”

Paul’s eyes snapped back to the projection of Straal, fingers already quickly reaching for the disconnect button. 

A wide grin came over Straal’s face, mischief clear in his eyes. “Ooh, should I hang up?” he asked, and Paul felt like dying right there, the blush creeping further up his neck.

“No need. I am. Bye.” Paul quickly hit the disconnect button.

“Wai-!” Straal exclaimed, looking like he was about to pout before his face, and the game, disappeared. Paul breathed a silent sigh of relief.

By that point, Hugh had reached the side of his bed and placed the tray down. “You didn’t have to hang up,” he said as he balanced it, making sure it didn’t fall. “I wouldn’t have been intrusive.”

Paul looked over Hugh, thinking of all of the things Straal could have said if he had remained in that call for a second longer. “It wasn’t you I was worried about.” 

Hugh sat down at the bedside chair, raising an eyebrow. “Then what were you worried about?” 

Paul looked away, fingers tapping rapidly against the edge of his PADD. He carefully inspected the assortment of food given. What was that? Peanut butter? Atop celery? Who did that? Wait, was that coffee? He immediately reached for it first, sending a quick glance at Hugh as he grabbed it. “Straal talks too much,” he provided as an explanation before looking into the cup, trying to judge its contents before he took his first sip.

“I can’t say I disagree,” Hugh replied, and when Paul glanced at him again, he was leaning back into the chair. There seemed to be a tiredness in his eyes, and in the way he slouched slightly. “How are you feeling?”

Paul had to physically resist the urge to roll his eyes. “You ask me that every time you come here,” he said dryly before taking his first sip. Beautiful, it tasted like liquid sugar. He was surprised that poor old nutrition-worried medical track Hugh Culber actually put enough sugar into it, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. He immediately chugged the coffee down.

There was a hint of concern in Hugh’s tone, probably over his slight over-dramatic chugging of the coffee, when he spoke. “It  _ is  _ my job to look after your well-being.” Paul rolled his eyes, but at least this time it wasn’t very visible. “If you drink that any faster, you’re going to choke.”

Paul didn’t respond until he’d finished the entire cup. This was the best he’d felt for days. “I’m feeling much better now that I’ve actually had something of substance.” Paul assumed that Hugh wouldn’t agree that a cup of sugary coffee counted as substance, but it sure as hell did to him. He looked from the empty cup towards Hugh. “I don’t suppose you’d get me another cup.”

“Maybe tonight,” Hugh said with a shrug. “We’ll see.” 

Paul knew that was a ‘not happening,’ and sighed loudly. He’d definitely have to find a way for Straal to make all of this up to him. Being stuck in this hospital felt like death clawing across his brain in boredom. He grabbed the pudding cup and the spoon, taking a large bite, and finishing it off quickly as well. There was simply something about sugar that helped him focus. He inspected the rest of the tray, but was suspicious to try anything new and just took a strawberry instead.

Paul didn’t speak as he carefully chose what he wished to eat from the tray, and thankfully Hugh was silent as well. He ran out of strawberries and picked up one of the pieces of celery. He looked at Hugh, about to ask him what possibly made someone come up with this combination, before noticing that Hugh had fallen asleep. 

Paul stared at him critically for a few moments, and came to the conclusion that Hugh Culber looked  _ cute  _ when asleep.  He also certainly looked like he needed the rest. Paul bit into the peanut-butter covered celery, face twisting for a moment before deciding it was...decent. 

He glanced at the time on his PADD, deciding he would simply let Hugh sleep for a solid 45 minutes, unless he woke up before that. Paul continued to rather half-heartedly nibble on the food available, getting a decent ways through before just simply giving up. 

He grabbed his PADD, looking at the paused game that still existed between him and Straal. It was his move, so he nicked Straal’s king, then sent him a message that simply said  _ Checkmate. Good luck with the data reports. _ He then began to read through his latest reports, proofreading them for error.

After about ten minutes, there was a slight sound that Paul couldn’t quite place, and he looked away from his PADD, giving a glance around with a frown. He focused on Hugh and realized that it was  _ him _ making the noise. Hugh Culber was  _ snoring.  _ Paul would have laughed if he didn’t think it’d wake him up. 

He glanced back at his PADD before realizing that he simply couldn’t focus. He looked at Hugh again, quietly turning the display on his PADD off. Hugh was asleep, there’s no way he’d know if Paul was staring at him as he slept, right? He silently studied the curves of Hugh’s face, the way it seemed so peaceful without the hard lines and professional mask drawn across it. His lips that were just slightly parted, and Paul had the immediate urge to just lean over and kiss him--there was a nurse at the door. 

Paul looked quickly between the two of them. “Culber,” he said sharply, leaning back into the bed, smoothing his face out. The nurse turned away and left, and Paul breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Yeah?” Hugh asked. He looked surprised, like he hadn’t noticed he’d even fallen asleep. He was probably going to try and play it off.

Paul raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance to Hugh just falling asleep. What else could he do? Admit he watched him sleep for 10 minutes? “Were you...asleep?” 

“No,” Hugh immediately said and Paul had to hold back a laugh. “I was waiting for you to finish.” Hugh stood up, looking over at the tray of food, and then towards the screen displaying Paul’s vitals.

Paul looked him over, critically analyzing the way he stood and the mask his face wore. Paul could see the cracks in it. He was a professional at constantly sleep-depriving himself, after all. “You seem exhausted whenever you come in here, Culber,” he commented lightly, only now seeing a  _ FUCK YOU STAMETS _ message from Straal appear on his PADD.

“Well, it’s usually been the end of my shifts when I’ve seen you, so that’s probably it,” Hugh said, smiling over at Paul.

“Shifts?” Paul asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Hugh shrugged, making his reply seem casual. “I usually do double-shifts,” he explained, as if that was normal. He pushed some button on the screen that Paul couldn’t quite see.

Moments later, Doctor Lucia had appeared in the doorway. “Hello, Paul.” 

Paul was surprised to see her, but gave her a slight nod. He realized that Hugh must have called for her when he pushed that button. “Doctor. Am I free to go yet?”  _ Please, say yes _ . He wanted out. He had mushrooms to care for, dammit.

She didn’t reply directly to him, instead muttering, “Let’s see here,” as she went up to the console and looked through the files there. Paul tapped his fingers rapidly against his PADD as he waited for her response.

“Yes, everything seems to be in order here. You’ll be fine to go tomorrow morning. Although….” She pursed her lips as she looked over at Paul. “Your muscles are still weak from the events they’ve been through; you’ll need someone to help you return to your dorm. If you don’t have anyone, we can assign a cadet to--”

“My roommate will be able to,” Paul immediately interjected. He had no wish to speak to any of the cadets in the hospital longer than he had to (minus Hugh, his brain helpfully provided). “There’s no need for that.”

Lucia nodded slightly marking something down on her PADD. “Great,” she muttered, typing a few more things down before smiling over at Paul. “Then let me just give you a small dose of painkillers.” Paul nodded in agreement as she picked up the hypospray. “Hold still, please.” She gently placed it against his neck, ensuring it was in the correct place before injecting the painkillers into his neck. “There you are.”

Paul was used to the cold feeling of it pressing against his neck. He could feel relaxation seep into his muscles as the painkillers went through his system, and he breathed out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

Lucia gently pat his shoulder, the soft smile still on her face. “Someone will be by to check on you in a bit,” she said as she picked up her PADD, giving a nod to Hugh as she went out the door. 

Paul slowly glanced back over at Hugh. He didn’t feel...tired, per se, but there was a sluggishness in his limbs now that made everything around him blurry and hard to focus on. He could see three of Hugh for a moment, and that was like a dream come true. 

The three Hughs turned into one as he picked up the tray. “I’ll get out of your hair now,” he said. “You can continue your game with Cadet Straal, if you’d like.”

Was he leaving? Paul frowned, but before the words ‘don’t go’ could leave his lips he bit on the inside of his cheek, effectively silencing himself. Hugh had just begun to turn away when instead Paul quickly managed to ask, “When will you be back?” After the words left his lips he wanted to curse at himself. How terribly desperate did that sound?

Hugh looked surprised, which Paul honestly couldn’t blame him for (it wasn’t  like Paul had ever been friendly in his life) when he replied, “Er, this is the end of my shift, so I won’t be back until tonight, around twenty hundred. You _ should  _ eat dinner before then.”

Oh, of course. He wouldn’t be back for a while, right, that obviously made sense. Paul didn’t miss the way Hugh emphasized the whole eating dinner thing, but he figured he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. 

He picked up his PADD, trying to look casual, almost bored, when he replied. “We’ll see. I’ll see you later, Culber.” He reopened Straal’s last message, typing away a reply. 

Paul didn’t see if any expression crossed Hugh’s face, refusing to look up. He could hear Hugh’s retreating footsteps as he left, only saying “Stamets,” as a goodbye before he left. 

He sighed, and after he closed his eyes for a moment, it took a lot of effort to force them open again. He had to tell Straal to be available to pick him up, however. He ignored the loud, angry message Straal had previously left him to send him a new one.

_ I need you to pick me up from the hospital tomorrow morning - approximately at 0900.  _

He tapped his fingers against the edge of the PADD, yawning and trying to stay awake to see Straal’s reply. It took him about 10 minutes to reply, and Paul was less than pleased with the results.

_ Sorry, I’m busy analyzing data.  _

Paul could hear the sarcasm that was seeped into the apology. He scowled as he typed back a reply.

_ You get your ass over here at 0900, or I will personally murder you in your sleep. You owe me this, Straal.  _

Straal’s reply was immediate, thankfully, because Paul could barely hold his eyes open.

_ Alright, fine. I’ll be there at 0900.  _

Satisfied, Paul clicked off the display, closed his eyes, and fell asleep in seconds.

✭✩✭

He awoke slowly, casually, with all of the time in the world. He was unused to the feeling of waking up without an alarm, or sleeping for anything more than a few snatches of hours. The feeling of being fully rested wasn’t bad, but it was certainly different. He stretched slowly, cat-like, feeling pain begin to burst in his muscles when he stretched them too far, but unwilling to let that stop him until he felt satisfied and lied back against the mattress. 

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted by someone rapping sharply on the door to announce their presence. Paul glanced over at the door to find another cadet - one whose name he didn’t bother to know. 

“Stamets,” the cadet said, giving what looked like a cold, maybe polite, nod as they took a tray of frankly awful-looking food over to him and set it down on the table. Paul didn’t dignify them with a response, staring silently at them, with a slight tilt to his head and his lips drawn into a thin line, until they left. 

Paul sighed, looking over the tray. He refused to admit it to himself, and he dared not entertain the thought, but he knew, somewhere inside of him, he’d been sad to see it hadn’t been Hugh who’d walked into the room. 

He picked at a piece or two of the fruit, but he just didn’t  _ feel  _ hungry. His insides were twisted in knots, but he couldn’t fathom why. He hadn’t felt so stressed since his final paper the previous quarter. He closed his eyes, blindly reaching for the carrots on the tray and eating them. 

All he wanted was to see Hugh Culber’s smile light up the room. He could imagine it, the way the smile seemed to take over his whole face, and the too-caring look he had in his eyes. Fuck, he was like a lovestruck teen all over again. 

He groaned, lifting his head up and smacking it back against the pillow. Two more weeks, then he was off of Alpha Centauri and none of this mattered. He hadn’t met Hugh in his two years of the Academy yet, and he’d probably never see him again after. He’d last. 

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. He’d messaged Straal occasionally, providing rather sarcastic tips on data analysis as he waited the hours down. Every time movement passed through the window, Paul would immediately look over. He told himself he was just seeing if a nurse or anyone was coming in, but he knew that was a lie. He was looking for Hugh, hoping that he was coming to visit him again.

It wasn’t long before, as he could feel discomfort start to crawl over his reconstructed skin and muscles, a nurse walked in. Very few words were spoken between the two of them, Paul’s irritation at simply being here coming back full force with the pain. All it took was a quick injection from the hypospray, Paul did hope it wouldn’t become addictive--and he was out like a light. 

✭✩✭

He awoke to the sound, and feeling, of a call on his PADD. He groaned, blindly reaching for where it rested on his chest. He answered the call with a muttered, “What?” 

“You missed your time, Stamets. I’m already at the lab.”

Straal’s voice snapped Paul to attention, both eyes opening up and staring at the screen. “What? What do you mean?”

“I was there at nine, like you said, and you were fucking dead. They said to come back later, but I was like fuck that, I have work to do.” 

Paul groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What time is it?”

“Like, noon? You were out for hours, dude.”

“Then get over here already,” Paul snapped. ‘I want to go home.”

“No can do. I’m in the lab, I got shit to do.” 

“I’m seriously going to murder you,” Paul seethed, rubbing his forehead and trying to wrap his head around everything. How was he supposed to get home now?

“Hey!” Straal snapped back. “I was there at nine, and where were you? Fucking asleep. And now I’m at the lab--”

“Straal.” Paul cut him off, taking in a deep breath to keep his temper just barely in check. He had to remember he was still in the hospital. What could he do to manipulate Straal? The data trends, right. “If you do this, I’ll give you those data trends.” 

The smirk on Straal’s face made Paul want to punch him. “Don’t need them anymore.” Then, the look in his eyes turned mischievous, and Paul suddenly realized that Straal had intended this from the fucking  _ start.  _ “Hey, why don’t you see if your cadet can--”

“Fuck off,” Paul snapped at him, then suddenly noticing movement at the doorway. Oh fuck, it was Doctor Lucia and  _ Hugh Culber. _ “I have to go,” he said quickly.

“Tell him I said--” Straal’s voice was cut off as Paul slammed his finger down on the disconnect button, feeling a burst of satisfaction from watching the shock on Straal’s face when he disappeared. 

Paul set the PADD down, giving a curt nod to the both of them. “Doctor,” he greeted, and then after a small bit of hesitation, “Culber.” 

Hugh smiled at him as he followed Doctor Lucia into the room, and Doctor Lucia went over towards the console. “Good afternoon, Paul.” Her voice was cheerful, which Paul didn’t find _too_ annoying. “Are you feeling ready to go?”  
Paul resisted the urge to scoff or reply with something snarky. “I’ve been ready since I first awoke.” 

Doctor Lucia looked amused, if the crinkling at the corners of her eyes was any indication. “Mhm, sure,” she said, looking over his vitals for one last time. Paul drummed his fingers against the edge of his PADD, feeling a desperate itch to leave. ”Everything--except for your diet, of course--seems good. I assume that was your roommate you were speaking to?”

A grimace warped his face. “I’m afraid so.” It took all of his effort to not vehemently spit out Straal’s name. He’d be getting an earful later.  He’d definitely fuck with Straal’s settings in the shower. See how he liked a blast of ice in the morning.

“It sounded like he’s not coming to get you.” 

Lucia’s words snapped Paul out of his haze, and he looked up at her for a moment, before sending a sharp, solid glare down at his PADD. “Apparently not.” The  _ fuck you Straal _ , that he wanted to follow with thankfully went unsaid. 

“That’s no problem,” Doctor Jimenez said. “Culber, when does your shift end?”

Paul’s eyes widened slightly, but he tried to quickly wipe away the shock on his face, hoping that the sudden, rapid beating of his heart wasn’t obvious on any monitor. He didn’t hear Hugh’s reply, focused down on the PADD in his lap, fingers of his right hand rapidly tapping against it. He only snapped his head back up with Doctor Lucia spoke again.

“--Cadet Culber can take you home as soon as we’ve checked you out.” 

Paul looked over to Hugh, only to meet his eyes directly. His heart leapt into his throat, but he steeled his face into a neutral expression.

“Is that fine with you?” Doctor Lucia pressed, causing him to look over at her and nod. 

“Yes,” he said, keeping himself level. “That’s perfectly satisfactory.” 

“Great,” Doctor Lucia replied. “Culber, would you go get a wheelchair, please?” 

“Right away,” Hugh replied, and he was out of the door before Paul could even protest. He felt a scowl come over his face, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“That is hardly necessary,” he said. “I will be perfectly capable of walking, thank you.”

The smile on Doctor Lucia’s face was knowing, and Paul knew immediately that he wasn’t going to win the argument; but he refused to back down. 

“I’ll be able to walk just fine, Doctor. I don’t think this wheelchair is required in the slightest.”

“Humour an old lady, will you?” Doctor Lucia asked, like she was trying to give him an easy way out.

“I can walk just fine!” Paul snapped.

“Don’t let pride cloud your vision, Cadet. It is perfectly alright to accept weakness, to allow yourself time to heal. No one will think less of you for it. In fact, accepting your weaknesses can be applauded.”

Paul bristled, the scowl still on his face. “Whatever,” he snapped. “I know my strengths and weaknesses, and I don’t need you preaching me on them.”

Doctor Lucia looked ready to spew out more annoying wisdom, when Hugh came back into the room. “There he is,” she said, smiling over at him. “Culber, you know the drill, yes?”   
Hugh nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Is Cadet Stamets ready to leave now?”

“Yes,” Paul immediately interjected. 

Doctor Lucia chuckled. “Yes, he’s ready. Go ahead.”

Hugh pushed the wheelchair over to Paul, but Paul refused to meet his eyes. Hugh put the wheelchair close to the bed, and Paul could feel embarrassment clawing up his throat. Just let him walk out, please. “Please take a seat, Cadet Stamets. I’m here if you need me.”

Paul snorted, pushing the blanket away. He would show him.  _ Fuck off, Culber.  _ “I won’t,” he said, trying to keep the snap out of his voice.  He slowly stood up, shuddering at the feeling of the cold floor. He hesitated for a moment before transferring his weight to his feet. 

Immediately, his feet could barely hold his weight. He nearly collapsed, grabbing onto the side of the console to keep himself upright, arms and legs trembling. Goodness, it was harder than he thought. But he was upright! He sent a haughty look over at Hugh and the doctor before turning towards the wheelchair and sitting (collapsing, more like) down into it. Hugh turned it so he was facing the doctor, and Paul had to try to not feel horrible embarrassment claw through his body. 

“Great,” Doctor Jimenez said. “I have another small dose of painkillers for you here, Paul,” she said, lifting up a hypospray.

Paul narrowed his eyes. He had no wish to have his senses be horribly dulled with  _ Hugh Culber _ taking him home. “I don’t think--”

“With all this moving around you’ll be doing, you won’t want to feel the pain,” Doctor Jimenez replied easily, voice brokering no argument. “Your current painkillers are about to wear off, but this should get you to your dorm, if you don’t take any unexpected detours.”

Paul drew his mouth into a thin line, staring at her for a few moments. He still knew he wouldn’t win. “...Fine,” he finally, reluctantly agreed. 

“Great.” Before Paul could even think to protest again, she stepped over to him, put the hypospray against his neck and injected the painkillers into him. Immediately, all of his muscles relaxed and he slouched down in the wheelchair, his eyelids drooping. She took a step back. “And with that, you’re free to go. Congratulations, Paul.”

Paul breathed a sigh of relief. He could barely keep his eyes open. Why did they insist upon painkillers that made him feel so tired? Maybe because they just wanted him to shut up a lot. “Finally,” he mumbled. 

Hugh said something to the doctor, but his eyes slipped closed in that moment. He didn’t think he’d fallen asleep, but his eyes only opened again when something tapped against his arm.   
He tried to shrink away from the touch, not wanting to wake up. But then he heard a quiet voice speak. “Paul?” Was that Hugh?

Paul forced his eyes to slowly peel open. “Whuh…?” He got a blurry vision of Hugh in front of him, and blinked slowly, trying to get him to focus.

Hugh’s voice faded in and out, and try as he might, Paul couldn’t listen very well. “I’m...stand up...need...wheelchair back.”

Paul frowned. Stand up? He felt so peaceful. “But I’m comfortable,” he mumbled, a slight whine to his voice. 

“I’m sorry...outside of the hospital...wheels...up.”

Paul tried to piece together what Hugh meant, the frown only deepening. “Just…get rid of the wheels,” he muttered, slowly letting his eyes fall closed again, before realizing he was, and trying to wake himself up. 

He could hear Hugh laughing quietly, and Paul squinted at him. “I’m afraid I don’t have any tech nearby to convert it into a hoverchair, sorry,” Hugh said.

Paul’s frown returned, but he tried to get himself to sit up more, maybe stand, his limbs feeling like noodley-weights. “That’s  _ your _ fault then.” 

“I’ll lodge a complaint during my next shift,” Hugh said, and the smile he wore was blinding. “I do need you to stand up, though.”

Paul sighed. “And if I refuse?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Then you get to stay here longer.”  
Paul sighed again, trying to debate his options. He certainly didn’t want to stay in the hospital any longer. “Alright, fine.”

It took effort to get his limbs to respond. But he slowly managed to push himself up, grabbing onto the counter for balance. Luckily, he didn’t feel pain rocketing up his legs like before, but he still felt too weak. He hated the feeling. He was too used to having nothing to rely on, he hated the possibility of being unable to take care of himself. 

Hugh reappeared at his side in seconds, holding an arm out. “You can hold onto me,” he said. “To keep from falling. Let me know if you need a break, and--”

Paul felt irritation spark through him, and he had to try to not snap at Hugh. “I can walk,” he said with a glance at Hugh. 

“I’m not sure--” Hugh began uncertainly.

“I am.” Paul let go of the counter, taking a few steps forward, and his knees immediately buckled. He fell forward, but was caught by strong arms wrapping around his chest. He stared down at the ground he nearly made contact with as Hugh slowly righted him. He grit his teeth together, still too angry at his weak state, before muttering, “Thanks.” 

Hugh nodded, keeping his hand against Paul’s back to help balance him. “It’s either you use me as a crutch, or I carry you to the station,” he said. “I’ll leave it up to you.”  
Paul immediately felt a blush creep up his neck, hoping it didn’t show on his face. His immediate reaction was to say ‘carry me,’ but luckily he stopped the words just before they left his tongue. _Keep it together, damnit Paul._ He only had an hour or so until Hugh Culber would be out of his life forever. _Just keep it together._

He closed his eyes for a moment, but quickly opened them when he realized that he could easily fall asleep on his feet. Paul glanced at Hugh, sighing. “...Fine. Give me your arm, then.” When Hugh offered his arm, Paul wrapped his own around it, leaning into Hugh, but trying not to lean too much on him. He couldn’t seem  _ weak  _ after all. He took a shaky step, his legs barely able to hold him, and sagged against Hugh. But he didn’t fall, and that was all that really mattered. 

“Is that so bad?” Hugh asked as they started to slowly walk to the doors.

Paul scowled slightly, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. If  _ any  _ of his colleagues saw him like this, he would be dead. “Don’t gloat. I’m not happy about this.” He looked up at Hugh for a moment, and it looked like he was smiling for just a second before the expression was erased. 

Hugh opened the door for them. “Like I was saying,” he started, “if you need a break, don’t hesitate to say so. There’s no shame in it; I’m here for you.”

Paul didn’t immediately reply, stepping through the doorway quietly, inspecting Hugh’s face. Every time he tried to look for even the slightest hint of a lie, he couldn’t see it. Hugh was so blatantly  _ honest,  _ and every word he said was full of kindness. Paul kept realizing this, and kept ignoring it, but it got harder each and every time. 

“...Right,” he finally managed to say.

The walk down the sidewalk was blissfully silent. Only then did Paul begin to understand what Doctor Lucia meant. He could tell that without the drug pumping through his system, each step would feel like agony. Even without having gone through the reconstructor, he had barely moved in what, five days? That was sure to fuck anyone’s muscles up. He’d have to do so much to try and get ready for Starfleet’s physical that was coming up in about a month. He wasn’t ready.

Paul would shift his view between the ground in front of them and Hugh’s face, just sneaking a glance whenever he could, studying the lines of the smile on his face, and the curve of his chin. Just once, their eyes met, and Paul immediately looked away. 

He could feel exhaustion quickly settling in again. Although this time it wasn’t brought about by the drugs, he was already too tired because of the effort it took to simply walk. Finally, they made it to the station where they were waiting for the hovertrain.

He saw Hugh glance towards the nearby seats, and he was immediately determined to not give in.   
“Do you want to sit, or--”

“No,” Paul interrupted. He nearly went to cross his arms over his chest, before realizing he couldn’t. He looked up at Hugh, the glare in his eyes ready-set to convince Hugh. “I’m fine standing.”

Hugh gave in far easier than Paul thought. “Ooookay,” he started, looking away from Paul. “Do you have any plans for when you get back?”

Great. Small talk. “Catching up on my research.” At least it was something interesting he could talk about. “The Academy said that I’ve done enough, but I haven’t until I’ve finished.”

“Wait, what?” Hugh sounded surprised to hear the news. Maybe that sort of thing didn’t happen so often. Paul had no idea. It wasn’t like he planned on nearly dying to get out of work. “The Academy said you’ve done enough?”

Paul glanced back at Hugh, gauging his reaction. “Due to my injuries, they said that my internship on Alpha Centauri has been automatically completed,” Paul said as he rolled his eyes. His research would never be completed. It was his life’s work, and there’d always be more to learn. ‘Completed’? Please. 

“That’s...great,” Hugh said. “Just because now you don’t  _ have  _ to work yourself to the bone. You can get plenty of rest. Which you should.”

Paul scowled. Great, another lecture. What was it with Hugh and his constant health-spiels? (A part of Paul knew that Hugh’s over-insistent worry about his health was growing on him and made him feel loved but he would  _ never _ listen to that part of him, thank you very much.) 

He huffed. “Did you bring this up just to tell me not to work?”

“No,” Hugh said, and Paul could hear the frown in his voice. “I was just curious.”

Yeah right, like Paul believed that. “Good, because you won’t have the power to keep me from working this time.” He could drink all the coffee he wanted. That was relieving.

Hugh shrugged. “I can just show up at your doorstep at odd hours of the day.”

Paul paused for a moment, not expecting that sort of reply. So Hugh Culber  _ can  _ have a fun conversation. “You don’t know where I live,” Paul said with a snort.

“I’ll know after today,” Hugh replied.

Paul glanced up at him. “And what if you see Straal?”

“Then he gets some tips on wellbeing, too,” Hugh said. “I won’t let you hog all of them.”

Paul grinned. Oh, he could imagine that. Straal was just as bad as him, maybe worse, when it came to questionable health standards. The two of them had a competition for longest without sleep, and Straal held the current record at 201 hours. Paul was determined to beat that. “He’d hate that.”

Hugh nodded. “See? You want this to happen.”  
Paul shook his head. “Not in the slightest,” he said, a smile staying on his lips. He’d be damned, he was having an enjoyable conversation with someone who wasn’t his terribly annoying roommate. “But if you happen to scold Straal anytime, please send me a recording.”  
Hugh snickered, and the sound cut straight to Paul’s heart. “Definitely,” he said. “You have my word.”

Paul could think of nothing to say in reply, so they lapsed into silence. Paul slowly leaned more and more of his weight on Hugh as his legs continued to weaken. He never imagined it being so hard.

The hovertrain roared in the distance, and Paul glanced towards it, relieved to hear it finally coming. Then, Hugh spoke again.

“So...other than catching up, you have no plans?” Why was Hugh so interested?  
“None that I know of,” Paul answered, analyzing Hugh closely. “Why are you so interested?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder casually. “Like I said, I’m just curious about you, Paul.”

Paul pursed his lips for a moment, staring back out to the oncoming train. Curious about him? What did that even mean? If Hugh wanted to know about his life, he could go ask any other cadet. He was sure hundred of rumours swirled around about him. 

When the train arrived, Paul nearly sagged in relief. He needed to sit down, but he’d never admit to that. He walked inside with Hugh, each step feeling like it was dragging cement across the ground. 

He bit the inside of his cheek as Hugh helped him sit down, holding back the snap that he wanted to say, to tell Hugh to back off, that he was fine. He knew the reality was he probably would have fallen over if it hadn’t been for Hugh. He just couldn’t admit it.

Paul sagged down into the seat, closing his eyes. The soft hum of the hovertrain was lulling him easily into sleep. The seats were built small enough that Paul was pressed right against Hugh, and Hugh was so...warm. 

Paul never slept on public transportation. He found it too dangerous, unable to trust strangers in such a public place. It was too easy to be robbed, attacked - anything, really. But here, next to Hugh, he felt...safe. He leaned his head back against the train. 

He wasn’t sure how long had passed, as he was certain he’d slipped off to sleep for a few moments, but there was a jolt in the train. His head slid down, landing on a warm shoulder. His half-asleep mind barely managed to make the connection that this was Hugh, and his muscles relaxed again. He could rest here, he was sure Hugh wouldn’t mind. A small smile tugged at the edges of his lips as he slipped back into sleep. This moment, here in this train, was  _ perfect.  _

✭✩✭

The next feeling Paul had when he woke up was warmth. It left him relaxed, and with the painkillers still circulating through him, it made him want to fall back asleep. But there was something off about it too, and he forced his eyes just a crack to open when something jostled him around. He didn’t recognize the blurry world at first, but something just felt  _ familiar  _ so he mumbled, “Hugh…?” 

“Sorry,” Hugh replied softly, and hearing his voice immediately made Paul relax again. Was he dreaming? This certainly felt like a dream. “The hovertrain was about to take off, so I had to...take matters into my own hands. Do you want me to let you go?”  
A pang of worry shot through Paul’s chest, but he felt too tired and relaxed to try and fight against it. He just shook his head slowly, snuggling closer into the warmth that was Hugh. He let his eyes fall closed again, breathing out a soft sigh of relief. He would be happy to simply stay like this forever. Hugh’s next words only startled him slightly, stopping him from falling asleep. 

“...Right. Where do you live, Paul?”

Paul scrounged up all of the energy he had left to give Hugh a mumbled reply. “In my apartment.”

He could feel Hugh’s quiet laughter through his chest, and Paul snuggled closer into it. “Sure, but which one?” Hugh asked.

Paul sighed softly. “Two six five.” 

“Got it,” Hugh replied. 

After that, it was silence. Paul could tell they were moving; he could feel the rhythm of Hugh’s footsteps, and hear the beat of his heart. He could feel himself slipping off into sleep, but he struggled against the feeling. He didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to live in this moment forever. It felt like a dream--he wasn’t sure it wasn’t-- and that waking up would happen the moment he fell asleep. 

Sometime--that felt far too short to Paul--later, Hugh spoke again. “Paul?” He was shaking his shoulder gently, and the action roused Paul enough to cause him to open his eyes slightly. 

He felt disturbed, the peace that he’d just had broken. “Mmmph?” He asked, not bothering to make words as he tried to snuggle more into Hugh’s chest, basking in the warmth, chasing the calm feeling he’d had moments ago. 

“We’re here,” Hugh said. “Do you want to...I don’t know, go in?”

No, he didn’t want to go in. The sooner they went inside, the sooner this moment would be shattered, and Paul would be left alone again.  “Mmmh.”

“If you can at least open the door, I’ll just put you in your bed.”

Paul, with whatever functioning part of his brain was left, thought about it for a moment. He could pretend to be too asleep, that he couldn’t open the door. But what would happen then? What if Hugh wanted nothing more than to just put him down, and go back to his job? Paul shifted, just enough to let his hand fall down and hit the scanner, letting the computer recognize his DNA. 

When the door slid open, a blast of cold air rushed out and Paul cringed, curling closer to Hugh again. He knew the moment would be over soon, but he’d take all that he could from it while he still could. 

“Which room is yours?”

Each time Hugh spoke, it soothed Paul, and it took him a moment to even remember he needed to reply. “Left.” 

Soon, too soon, he was being moved. Paul opened his eyes again, staring through drooped eyelids at Hugh as he was set down on his bed. He thought in this moment he would be relieved, finally home, but all he wished for was to be back in that hospital room if it meant seeing Hugh every day. He felt cold, far too cold. 

Hugh had begun to turn away, but Paul managed to reach an arm out and grab onto his shirt, fingers just managing to curl into the fabric. “Stay,” he mumbled, hoping he both did, and didn’t, sound as desperate as he felt.

Hugh turned back around to him, and Paul could barely see the outline of his face. He gently took Paul’s hand, and Paul could feel Hugh gently rubbing his thumb against it. Hugh was so thoughtful, in every little thing he did. 

“I’ll be right outside,” Hugh said softly, and Paul frowned.

Each word felt like a struggle to get out, sleep creeping up on him from every angle. “No,” he mumbled, trying vainly to tug Hugh closer to him. “Here.” He felt selfish, trying to convince Hugh to stay with him, but he couldn’t convince himself to stop.

“Someday,” Hugh promised, but the words felt empty when he let go of Paul’s hand. “Go back to sleep, okay?”

Paul huffed, feeling annoyance rush through him for a moment. Why wouldn’t Hugh just  _ stay  _ with him? Why was he so insistent to leave? The fight had left Paul, as he just barely managed to watch the door slide closed as Hugh left. 

His eyes slid closed, his last thought being:  _ I wish that had never ended.  _

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Paul woke up, it was to the sound of a wolf-whistle centimeters away from his head. He frowned, rolling over, trying to bury his head into his pillow to make the noise go away.

“You’re awake now Stamets, don’t make me throw this ice water on you instead,” Straal’s sing-song voice spoke out, followed by the sloshing of something filled with ice.

Paul groaned again, only just managing to pull his eyes open and look over at Straal. “What do you want?”

Straal grinned at him. “There’s one hot doctor on our couch outside and I’m confused why he’s not in here.”

Paul groaned. Fuck, he could vaguely remember what had happened a few hours ago, but frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Emotions were never his strong suit, and anything past leaving the hospital was embroiled in them. He sat up, feeling his reconstructed muscles protest weakly at the action. There was still some numbness, so it was fine. “Computer, what time is it?”

_ It is currently 1603. _

Paul looked over at Straal with a sigh. “What do you want?”

Straal plopped down on the edge of his bed, setting the bucket of ice water down. “All of the details. I came back here after my shift to find Culber passed out on my couch? C’mon man.” 

Paul dragged a hand over his face. “It’s your fault, you’re the one who didn’t go to the hospital. 

Straal grinned broadly. “So then why aren’t you thanking me?” 

Paul gave him a withering look. “Because I do not need your involvement in my life, Straal.” 

“In your  _ love  _ life,” Straal corrected gleefully. He looked at his PADD for the time. “You have about 22 hours left, so I suggest you get on it before I ask him out for you.”

“If you do that, I will never speak to you again,” Paul said, his face already setting into its usual deadpan.  Paul looked out to the door, then back at Straal. “Is...is Hugh still here?”

“Awwww, you call him Hugh?! That’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever seen come out of your mouth, Stamets.”

Paul could feel the embarrassment rush to his face, and he looked away from Straal. “Fuck off. Computer, start the shower.”

_ Understood. _

“Are you just going to leave him all alone, sleeping on your couch? How tragic,” Straal said.

Paul grabbed onto the table beside his bed, slowly standing up with a grimace. It was hard, but his legs managed. He would never ask Straal for help, and at this rate he never wanted to look at Hugh again in fear of embarrassing himself, so he slowly shifted to lean against the wall. He carefully made his way, leaning heavily, towards the door.

He paused for only a second to grab something out of his closet to take with him to the shower, not wanting a repeat of his last shower (Straal’s whistle as Paul had scurried naked to his room still echoed in his ears).

“What’re you going to do with Culber?” Straal asked.

“Let him sleep,” Paul grumbled. He was far too tired to deal with any of this now. 

“I have some condoms, you know, and I could take an early shif--”

“No,” Paul snapped. “Just drop it already. And don’t wake him up, I’m sure he’s exhausted.”   
“Is this Paul Stamets, caring about another person’s well-being? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Paul sent Straal an annoyed glare, making it out the door and nearly to the bathroom, almost to blissful silence. He glanced down the hallway and could just see the outline of Hugh’s body over the edge of the couch. He  _ was  _ still here. It made his heart feel giddy for a moment before the bathroom’s door slid open and he quickly stepped inside. 

The shower was already running, bless technology, and it took him no time at all to strip out of the hospital’s pajamas-style uniform he’d been wearing for days _.  _ He stepped into the hot shower with a long sigh, reveling in it and leaning back against the wall. 

Paul wasn’t sure how long he stayed in that shower for, just relaxing under the hot stream, but he stayed until he felt like his legs would give out. 

He dried himself off, and grabbed his clothes. Sweatpants and a tank top felt like heaven after his stay in the hospital. 

He could hear Straal making something, and could already smell burning food as he made his way back to his room. He was determined to not look back, to not sneak a glance towards the sleeping Hugh. 

He just barely succeeded, leaning back against the door as it slid shut behind him. He made it to bed, collapsing onto of the mattress with trembling limbs. “Another daily reminder to myself to tell Straal to go fuck himself.” 

_ Reminder set. _

Paul groaned. “No, computer, I wasn’t telling you to set a reminder. However…” He rolled onto his back, grinning. “Authorization code: Prototaxites stellaviatori. Set Straal’s shower settings to 27 degrees Celsius, please.”

_ Authorization granted. New settings in place. _

Paul smirked. “Perfect. Thank you, computer.” The computer didn’t reply, not that he expected it to. Hugh was still asleep, right outside this room. He’d use the excuse of  _ I can’t move at all _ as his deterrent to walking back out there. He was sure Hugh had work to do, and needed sleep before he left, anyway. 

He looked between his desk and the bed he was lying on, trying to decide which was the best option. Ultimately, he decided to just stay where he was, and grabbed his PADD. He pushed himself up, wincing, until he was lying back against the wall, and opened up the files on his PADD. “Computer, project.”

_ Understood.  _ In moments, the files on his PADD appeared around him, shimmering holograms, just tangible enough to get his work done. “Computer, run an analysis from my report two weeks and 4 days ago, Report Alpha, and compare it to the most recent one, please.” 

_ Understood.  _ Then there was a knock on the door. Paul had a split-second of panic before it opened up, and it was only Straal there. He sighed. “What do you want, Straal?”

Straal held up two boxes. “Well, I just wasn’t sure what size you’d need. Sorry, I mean what size  _ he’d  _ need.” 

Paul’s face turned a bright red. He grabbed the nearest item on his table,  a solid plastic cup, and threw it right at Straal. Straal ducked, tossing the boxes of condoms onto the edge of his bed before disappearing. “You’ll thank me later!” he shouted as the door closed.

Paul had maybe 20 minutes of peace (relatively, he could still hear Straal cursing at the kitchen from down the hall) before there was an eerie moment of silence, followed by another knock on his door before it slid open.

“Alright Stamets, part two!” There was an impish glee in Straal’s voice, and Paul sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

“Leave. I’ll even ask nicely: Please leave before I kill you.”

Straal smirked. “You can’t even get out of bed, how will you kill me? Anyway, you have a choice to make.” He held up two bottles, and Paul couldn’t make the words written on them for the life of him. “I’ve always considered you more of a vanilla guy,” he held up one bottle, “but I feel like you’d be in more of a chocolate mood tonight, if you catch my drift.” 

Paul stared at him for a few moments, a slight furrow in his brow.

Straal stared back, before rolling his eyes, exasperated. “It’s lube, Stamets.”

“No, I know what it is. I’m just wondering how you’re still alive,” Paul replied scathingly. 

Straal grinned broadly, throwing both bottles onto the bed, landing right next to the untouched boxes. “Spice up your life a little! Try both!” Before Paul could give another reply, he’d backed up again and the door shut.

Paul smacked his head back against the wall, feeling the pain that spiked up his head to be a worthy sacrifice for his sanity to remain intact. There was peace for 10 minutes, and just as Paul was about to get back to work there was another knock on the door.

Paul scowled, his patience snapping. “Straal, if you come in here with another sex joke, I will disable your shower for the rest of our time here!” he shouted.

“Uh...Paul…?” Hugh asked.

Paul immediately froze. Oh god. It was Hugh Culber. All he could do was hope that Hugh wouldn’t open the door and see the damned condoms and lube Straal had so helpfully strewn across his bed. What did he even say? What should he do? He closed his eyes, very quickly composing himself before giving his reply in a calm deadpan. 

“...Hugh. You’re awake.”

“Yep. I just wanted to say bye before I left,” Hugh said from behind the door. It sounded like wasn’t coming inside, which Paul was very thankful for. 

“You’re leaving,” Paul said, thankful his voice was as calm as he was trying to make it be.

“Yeah, I have a shift at the hospital pretty soon, so I have to get going.”

Paul could feel his heart clench, and he didn’t give an immediate reply. He bit the inside of his cheek before accepting his fate. “Okay,” he just managed to force out. “...Thank you, Culber.”

“No problem,” Hugh said, and Paul could hear him walking away.

Paul almost called out to him, but stopped himself. There was no use in it. He had work to do. It would be easier when he returned to the Academy, and was deep in his studies again.

He could hear the front door open as Straal shouted in a sing-song voice, “Twenty houuurs!”

Paul heard the door shut before he snapped back, “Fuck off Straal!” 

A strange feeling settled into his chest. It was light with the knowledge now that he’d never see Hugh Culber again, and he could continue on with his research as planned. However, for that same reason, something heavy and dark settled against his heart, and he loathed the feeling. He’d always hated emotional expression and what he felt then only made him agree that it was the best decision to shut off.

Straal didn’t bother him, which was a blessing. Perhaps he understood how angrily Paul would respond to him if he even attempted to open the door. The only words he heard from him were about an hour later, when Straal announced he was leaving for the lab and would be back sometime early morning the following day.

Paul let himself fall into his work, looking over the strands of data, watching numbers roll past. They were getting closer and closer towards finding the perfect version of a specimen. Currently, the spores didn’t last long enough, they couldn’t access the network they visualized _enough._ It was irritating, but luckily the two of them were slowly drawing closer. Straal was a nearly perfect research partner, and the two of them have been academically inseparable since they met up last year. Paul was focused into the theoretical, and Straal was focused on the fast-paced results of the physical applications. 

Paul only noticed the passage of time when he felt an ache seep into his body. He rubbed at his eyes, only just noticing the headache he must have had going for a while. “Computer, what time is it?”

_ 22:04. _

Paul sighed. Straal wouldn’t be back for a good 6 hours, and Paul couldn’t do much more without visiting the lab himself. He needed to plug his code into the computer’s mainframe to get new reports coming out. Perhaps that’s where he should go then. It’s never been uncommon for him and Straal to spend days at a time in there, as they easily had for the first week, without returning to their little apartment. Professor Eburrack had given each of them a key to the lab for that very purpose. 

If he could make it to the lab, everything would work out. He just had to...get there. He waved his hand, making the holographic projections around him disappear. 

Paul would have to convince Straal to help him to the lab. He was sure he was capable of it; he just had to actually get it done. He tapped the call button on his PADD, waiting. 

Straal picked up at the last possible second, his face obscured by a mask and goggles, his voice muffled. “What do you need, Stamets? You’re lucky I know you’re sad, injured, and alone or else I wouldn’t bother to answer.”

“Again, this situation is entirely your fault, and could have been avoided if you followed the safety protocol. I need you to help me get to the lab.”

“Why the hell would I leave? I have shit to do.”

“I have a plan that will finish your reports a week early. Imagine, a whole week to party however you want,” Paul said haughtily, smirking when he noticed Straal was actually considering his offer. 

“What’s your plan?”

“We’ve been working in gene transferring, but we haven’t gone into synthesizing yet. If we can create new specimens, then it will increase our production tenfold, and speed up the analytics process. The new program I’ve been constructing is done as well.” He waved his hand, the section of code helpfully showing up on the screen for Straal to look at. “But I can’t implement it until I’m in the lab.”

Straal looked between him and the code, before sighing. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there in an hour and a half. Be ready.” The call shut off. 

Paul grinned broadly. “Success!” He gave himself a fistbump. “Good job Paul, manipulating Straal 101.”

He had some time to kill,  but he wasn’t sure what to do with it. He had to change into his Starfleet uniform, at the very least. He slowly pulled his legs off the bed, until they were hanging off the edge with his toes just touching the cold carpet. Pain sparked up though Paul’s spine, but he grit his teeth and ignored it.

He stood up slowly, grabbing onto the wall for support. His arm was as shaky as his leg, but there was the barest bit of balance between the two of them that allowed him to walk. He slowly shuffled to the closet, wincing when he put too much weight on his right leg.

The pain was worrisome. He’d been through a reconstructor before, but he’d never had lasting damage last this long. He must really have nearly died for this to happen. It still didn’t feel quite real to him. He could recall the searing pain, the moments before the electricity rocketed through his body, but he never saw the damage. Maybe it was making him a bit more reckless than he should have been.

He grabbed one of the copies of his uniform, sliding onto the floor to sit down. It was almost like the whole experience was a nightmare. Or, his brain helpfully supplied, a dream, since Hugh Culber had happened to care for him all week. 

By the time he was dressed, and made his way out to the living room, collapsing into the couch, he had half an hour before Straal said he would arrive. If it took him a damn hour to get across his apartment, he didn’t want to imagine how slow his work at the lab could become. He closed his eyes, willing the pain in his lower spine to die down. He didn’t bother to move until he heard the front door slide open.

“Your prince charming has arrived. Please, hold the applause,” Straal announced as he came in through the door, a broad grin on his face. “You’re lucky I had to come back here anyway. Eb thought it was a great idea to take all of the mugs out of the kitchen back to his place, so now there’s  _ nothing  _ to drink coffee out of. I’ve been using a flower pot, Stamets. A flower pot.”

Paul snorted. “There’s a hole in the bottom of those,” he said as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Straal looked over at Paul in a tired deadpan. “I know.”

Paul stared at him for a few moments, brow furrowed in concern. “...Are you alright?”

“I am now!” Straal went to the kitchen, and Paul didn’t bother to turn around to look at him. “I’m going to get a few mugs to take over there.” There was the sound of ceramic and plastic clanking together as Straal presumably shoved mugs into his bag. “The next train leaves in 10 minutes, so we have to go fast.” Straal turned back to the door. “Which meaaaans, we use this.” He pulled a wheelchair out, turning it to face Paul. 

“No,” Paul refused. “We walk.”

“No, I walk. You sit. I’m not your boyfriend, I can’t just carry you everywhere when you fall over. If you don’t get over here, we’re going to miss the train.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Paul snapped as he stood up, grabbing his bag and making his way over to Straal.

“Right, of course. He just carried you here in his arms because he’s friendly.” Straal rolled his eyes.  “Sit your ass down.” When Paul got close enough to him, Straal pushed him back, making him fall into the seat. “Perfect! Now we can get going. I’m trusting your program to work, you know.” 

Paul bristled. “Do you think my work would fail, Straal?” he snapped.

Straal wheeled him out, pushing the button to close the door with his hip. “Never know with you.”

“I believe every error in our work can be traced back to you cutting corners.” 

“No, definitely not. Last year, when the lab blew up? That was definitely your hypothesis going terribly wrong.” Straal paused for a moment. “Shit, stairs...let’s just go for it.”

“Do no-”

“Going for it. Hang on tight!” Straal pushed the wheelchair down the stairs, just barely keeping it under control.

Paul gripped the armrests tightly, gritting his teeth together. “I’m going to murder you,” he hissed out, every bump feeling like a knife stabbing him in the lower back.

“It’s not like this will kill you.  Consider this an adventure. Come on!” He pushed Paul faster, until they were ‘safely’ on the floor below. “Ta-da.”

“I think my spine just broke.”

“Liar. Look, its the train! We just made it.” 

 

✭✩✭

 

By the time the two of them made it to the lab, Paul had a bigger headache than he thought was ever possible. “Let’s just get to work. Make a pot of coffee, Straal. I’ll upload the code into the mainframe.” Straal had ever-so-helpfully taken him to his desk, so Paul immediately got to work plugging his PADD in and uploading his code.

“Got it.” Straal disappeared into the kitchen. By the time he returned, with two mugs, Paul had finished the upload. Straal put one down in front of Paul, and then collapsed into his own desk. 

It’d been a while since both him and Straal worked in the same room together. Lately, the two of them had been so focused with physical experiments that they haven’t been able to work together in a long time.

The two of them always worked well together, when they actually worked together at the same time. They could work easily for hours without a break, sustained only on increasingly larger cups of coffee. That was the rhythm they fell into now, the only sounds being the tapping of fingers on keyboards, the hum of the machines around them, and sparse conversation.

“Stamets, I need the-”

“Got it.” Paul typed a transfer code into his computer, before disconnecting a drive and tossing it behind him. “Data reports 7-12 are on there.”

Straal caught it and plugged it into his own, sending them through his system. “Great. Here,” Straal pulled out a second drive, tossing it to Paul. “This is the-”

“Latest sample data, I know.” Paul caught it, plugging the drive into his computer. “When is the latest shipment coming in?”  
“Should be in 15 hours.”

“When we get our own lab, we need to cultivate our own crop. It would take far too long to keep getting shipments sent to us.”

Straal scoffed. “No, it would take too long to grow them. If we get them in bulk, dried, it’d save time and energy.”

Paul scowled. “Then you would have to continuously buy more.”

“Better than dedicating an entire section of our lab to crop growth.”

“Cultivation is an essential part of insuring our spores are-”

“We don’t even have our own lab yet Stamets,” Straal groaned. “Just drop it.”

Paul huffed, sending a glare back at Straal. “Fine. The new program?”

“Running smoothly. It’s working twice as fast as before, I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” Paul said dismissively, “It took me too long to figure out the missing pieces.”

“It’s decent enough. I’ll go make another pot of coffee.” Straal stood up, stretching with a groan and walking over towards the kitchen.

It was only hours later--10? 15?--that either of them remembered they needed to eat, and then they sat in the tiny kitchenette together, waiting for the synthesizer to pop something out as they drank their way through another pot of coffee.

Straal, without snarky commentary, dropped Paul’s food in front of him. He turned back to make the two cups of coffee, and slowly slid Paul’s in front of him.

Paul stared down at the mug for a few moments. “Straal.”

“What?” Straal asked innocently, taking a bite of chicken.

“What is this?” Paul gestured at the mug.

“It’s coffee.” Straal replied.  “Did you get your head hurt during the accident too?”

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, you know what I mean. Why is Culber’s mug here?”

“What happened to calling him Hugh?” Straal asked.

“Straal!” Paul snapped.

“Go return the mug,” Straal said simply, stabbing another piece of chicken. “I’ll stop bothering you after that.”

“Later. We’re working.”

“Technically I’m working, and you’re just here because you have no life.” 

Paul gave him a withering look. “If I give him the mug, will you shut up about it all?”

Straal nodded. “Yeeeeeep.” He pointed at Paul with his fork. “You’re lucky I consider you enough of a friend to  _ not _ actually ask him out for you. I want you to do this right, Stamets. And that means giving him the mug.”

“Fine. I’ll give him the damn mug.”

 

✭✩✭

 

Paul spent the two days it took to work up the willpower to return the mug in the lab. He and Straal both hadn’t bothered to leave, and the only reason they did was that they had run out of coffee.

When he was finally ready to give Hugh his mug back, Paul barely remembered to take a shower, but he didn’t want Hugh to see him as a complete mess. By now he was able to walk easily, although longer distances still made his calves tremble. 

Paul had been standing outside the door to Hugh’s apartment for at least 10 minutes. He’d almost knocked on the door several times, but gave up each time. A logical part of himself told him that if he really wanted to ask Hugh out, all he had to do was--well, ask. But the rest of him couldn’t work up the courage. 

Eventually, as a group of cadets walking past were whispering and staring at him, he realized he couldn’t just continue to stand here. He sighed, before rapping sharply against the door.

It was opened in mere moments, startling Paul. He was staring not at Hugh, but at his rather obnoxious roommate. Delightful.

Paul pursed his lips for a moment before speaking. “Is Cul-”

“Oh shit it’s you!” Geraldo exclaimed, eyes wide.

Paul raised an eyebrow. “I’m so glad my reputation precedes me. I--”

“Don’t move!” Geraldo turned and ran down the hall, leaving Paul staring at him in annoyed confusion from the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, wincing against the feeling of pain spiking up his shaky legs.

Moments later, he could hear Geraldo shouting across the apartment.

“Huuuugh!”

Was Hugh not here? Did Geraldo not know if his roommate was here or not? Did-

“HUUUUUUUUGH!”

Paul winced. Perhaps he should just leave. He could still turn around. They’d never know he was here. He was about to turn to leave when he heard another voice that made him freeze.

“Wha?!”

Fuck. It was Hugh Culber.

“You have company!” There seemed to be a split second too long of a wait for Geraldo, because he immediately shouted again. “HUU-!”

“I’m  _ up!” _

Paul could easily sympathize with Hugh. He too had a horribly obnoxious roommate who screamed at him at every available moment. Paul couldn’t leave anymore, he was sure that any second Hugh would walk out here and-

Time stopped. Paul stared at Hugh (who was  _ shirtless),  _ unable to form words. He’d been trying to convince himself he’d never see Hugh again, but staring at him now, feelings came rushing back. Just looking at Hugh made something too warm flutter through his chest, and his hands tightened into fists, trying to gain control over the feeling.  _ Stop staring at his chest, Paul. Look up. Move your eyes away.  _

“Uh...Paul?” Hugh’s voice registered suddenly to Paul, snapping him out of his thoughts. He quickly looked away from Hugh’s chest, up to his face. “Are you alright?”

Paul’s throat felt horribly dry and he swallowed before trying to speak. “Yeah,” he quickly said, voice a bit raspier than he would like. He coughed, quickly pulling himself together. “Yes, I’m fine.” He fumbled for a second, the mug nearly slipping out from between his nervous fingers, before he thrust it towards Hugh’s chest. “I came to return your mug.”

Hugh was staring down at the mug for a few seconds too long, causing Paul to worriedly shift his weight from one tired leg to the other. Finally, Hugh jolted and snatched the mug away from Paul, smiling at him. “Thanks, do you wanna come inside? I can make something to eat.”

Paul bit the inside of his cheek, glancing around at the apartment behind Hugh. Hugh’s roommate was still here, and Paul remembered all too well how that went last time. But if this was...the last time he spoke to Hugh ever, he might as well make it last. “I...can only stay for a few minutes,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “I have some work I need to do.”

The smile on Hugh’s face brightened, and Paul wondered how him saying he’d stay for a few moments longer could create such an expression. “Then we can just spring for coffee,” he said as he stepped aside, letting Paul come inside. “Since it’s quick.” 

Paul snorted, rolling his eyes as he stepped into the apartment. “With how I take it? You’d allow that under your roof?” 

Hugh laughed; the sound made Paul’s heart jolt, and he nearly stumbled on his last step. “Only since I want you to stay will I allow it.” Hugh walked over to the coffee maker, starting to brew the coffee. “I wanted to tell you something about that, actually.”

Paul followed after him slowly. How long had he been standing for? An hour, maybe? His legs certainly thought it was too long. He got about halfway to the kitchenette, then paused to lean against the edge of the couch, determined to not let anything resembling pain show through. “Is it another lecture about how unhealthy it is?” he asked, glancing at the door. “I can still leave.”

“No!” Hugh said, and Paul snorted, feeling a smile curve against the edges of his lips as he looked back over at him. “Well, it  _ is  _ unhealthy, but there’s a way to make it healthier without sacrificing the taste.”

Paul raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. He straightened up again, making the rest of the way to the kitchen table, sagging into a chair with a relieved sigh. “I don’t believe you.” 

“It’s true,” Hugh said, leaning back against the counter. “The coffee I gave you at the hospital didn’t taste any different from your regular stuff, did it?”  
Paul frowned, staring at Hugh. “That had sugar in it.” 

The grin on Hugh’s face grew impossibly larger. “Nope.”

Paul’s frown, meanwhile, deepened, his brows furrowing. “It must have.” Hugh looked far too pleased about this health aspect.  _ Who cares this much about sugar? _

Hugh shook his head. “Not one spoonful,” he said. The coffee had finished brewing, and Hugh filled up two mugs with coffee. He set a mug in front of Paul, followed by a container of sugar (or not sugar, apparently). “Try that on for size.”

Paul stared down into the container, looking over the little particles. “...This is sugar,” he said, picking up a spoon, still doubtful. 

“It’s not,” Hugh was insistent, and he knew more about nutrition than Paul did, but Paul was still pretty sure this was sugar. “Trust me.”

Paul began to put spoonfuls in, deciding that if it was going to kill him, he might as well go all out. He didn’t count them really, just putting in whatever absurd amount felt right as he glanced back up at Hugh. “If this kills me, it’s on your conscience.”

Hugh snorted. “Please. You know I’d never hurt you.”  
Paul froze for a second, gaze quickly looking back down at the cup of coffee as he slowly poured the last spoonful in. _Never hurt me?_ He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever heard someone say something like that to him. He set the spoon down, wrapping both hands around the mug and lifting it up to his lips to take an experimental sip. He wished he could believe Hugh’s words. 

Paul frowned, slowly swallowing the coffee, looking at the cup critically as he set it back down. “You gave me sugar.”

Hugh laughed. “I swear I didn’t.”

“Then what else could it be?” Paul demanded, looking back at the not-sugar container. 

“It’s just artificial sweetener,” Hugh said, the delight of a child revealing its greatest secret clear in his tone. “I brought some from Earth.”

“Artificial sweetener,” Paul repeated, raising an eyebrow at it dubiously. “So, it’s just man-made sugar.”

“Essentially,” Hugh replied.

“Then...what makes it healthier than normal sugar?” Paul looked back up to Hugh.

Hugh shrugged, taking a sip from his mug before continuing. “Well, really it has  _ no  _ nutritional value. You only need a small amount of sugar, though, and I’m sure you get more than enough to meet your needs from the food you eat, so...this could help.”

Paul scowled. Everyone was so  _ concerned  _ about the food he chose to eat. He’d passed every physical up to this point, thank you very much. He took another sip from the mug, deciding it was at least satisfactory, and that he didn’t want to let decent coffee go to waste. “...Right. I hope you know I’m not throwing out all my sugar just for this.”

Hugh was still smiling, and Paul wondered if his mouth ever ached from all of it. “Hey, I’m just trying to help you prepare for the physical in a month.”

There it was. Paul rolled his eyes, taking another long sip of the coffee. “I’ll be fine.” Paul felt relaxed, which was a first in such an unfamiliar location. Not that Hugh was really a stranger, but he was usually on edge in any place that wasn’t his lab or apartment. It was nice.

“Mhm, sure,” Hugh’s tone definitely disagreed with Paul’s assessment of his physical abilities. “But if you’re ever in the mood for jogging….”

Paul snorted, trying not to choke on his coffee. “Unlikely.”

“I figured I’d at least offer.”

They finished the coffee too quickly, and Paul suddenly regretted saying he had to leave so soon for work. There was no way to take his words back now, however.

“You...probably want to get going, don’t you? For your work,” Hugh said, sounding almost...sad.

Paul tightened his fingers around the mug before he slowly nodded. “That would probably be best.”

“I don’t suppose you’d want to take one of the mugs for the road?” Hugh asked, and the light grin on his face made Paul’s heart clench. This was it. “My treat.” 

Paul couldn’t remember the last time he’d joked with someone so easily. It was easy to brush aside emotion and let the words roll off his tongue. He huffed, rolling his eyes, but amusement was clear in his tone. “If you’re not careful, I’ll steal all your mugs.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Hugh said as he picked up the cups. “You’d have more excuses to visit, and I’d have more excuses to give you health tips.”

Hugh had turned away, and Paul was thankful for that, because in that split second, the stone expression on his face cracked for a moment, revealing how desperate he was to  _ have  _ the opportunity to come back. But he steeled himself again, pushing himself up to his feet. “I’ll pass on the health tips.”

“Aw, those are my best feature, though,” Hugh said, and Paul nearly snorted again. “Right in front of my obscure music taste.”  
Paul did snort at that, thinking back to the horrible attempt at Kasseelian opera. His legs seemed more apt for walking now, and it was easier to make it towards the door. “You have plenty more virtues than those.” After the words left his lips, Paul wanted to snatch them back, his cheeks turning red. 

If he’d made a fool of himself, Hugh didn’t seem to notice. “Do you want any help?” he asked.

Paul shook his head, gripping onto the edge of the couch. “I can manage,” He said, stubbornness causing him to only grip the furniture tighter when his legs trembled.

“Alright,” was all Hugh said, coming up to his side. 

Paul glanced over at him as he continued forward. “No protest? I’m impressed.”

“If you want to walk for yourself, I won’t take that freedom away from you,” Hugh said, “Unless you fall, of course, in which case I’d be sure to catch you.”

Paul quickly looked away, thinking back to when Straal had said virtually the same thing, blushing. “You’re always so honest,” he mumbled.

“Would you rather I not be?” Hugh asked.

“No,” Paul answered quickly, then hesitated before continuing. “It’s...nice.”

Paul was never afraid to say what was on his mind, either, it just tended to be horribly rude things that pushed everyone away. Not that he’d ever minded that, but all he could do was be shocked that Hugh could still stand beside him and say such earnest things so truthfully.

Paul grabbed onto the edge of the doorframe, hesitating for a moment before stepping through it, looking back over to Hugh as he stood in the hallway.

“Then...this is it?” Hugh asked.

A million thoughts rushed into Paul’s head at once. On this tip of his tongue rested the question: _Will you go out with me?_ But he couldn’t convince himself to ask it. He’d only known Hugh for what, a week? There was nothing showcasing Hugh was anything but just polite. He instead gave a jerking nod, cursing himself for his inadequate social skills. “I suppose so.”  
Hugh only nodded back. “Then...I’ll see you, Paul.”

Any other words Paul wanted to say died in that moment. He took a step back, giving Hugh a stiff nod. “Culber.” He then turned away, making his way slowly down the hallway. 

Paul closed his eyes, letting his hand against the wall guide him. This was a sign, obviously, of Paul’s doomed fate to always be alone. He breathed out a shaky sigh, forcing himself to push away all thoughts of Culber. If he didn’t have the courage to ask Culber out now, he’d never gain the courage sometime later. He had to draw up a new supply request from Starfleet, for a new section of high-quality soil. Despite what Straal said, he wanted to try growing the new brand of synthesized mushrooms. His fingers hit the edge of the corner, and he opened his eyes again, about to step around it when a voice called out his name.

“Paul!” 

Paul stopped, slowly turning back to watch Hugh jog over to him. He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have any of your mugs,” he said the moment Hugh got close.

Hugh shook his head (he wasn’t even out of breath after running down the hallway?) before he said, “Go on a date with me.”  
Paul froze, the scathing reply he was ready to launch dying on his tongue. There was no way in hell he’d heard Hugh right. “What.”

“I--I mean,” Hugh stumbled over his words, looking embarrassed, “you don’t  _ have  _ to. I mean, I meant it as a question.” He shifted from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his head as he looked away from Paul. “I just...don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

Paul’s face turned a dark red, and he couldn’t think of the words to say in reply. He’d never once considered that Hugh would ask  _ him  _ out. He tried to say something, but nothing came out as his mouth opened and closed. He must look like an idiot.  _ Damnit Paul just say something!  _ “Yes,” he finally managed to get out. “Yes, I will.”

Hugh blinked, looking surprised. Did he expect Paul to refuse? “Great!” he exclaimed, then quickly lowered his volume. “Sorry, I--thank you. I’ll...message you the details?” Hugh laughed nervously, and the sound made Paul smile. “I didn’t think I’d get this far.”  
Paul couldn’t fight the smile away. “Well, you did. I’ll see you then,” he hesitated for a moment, not sure of exactly what to say. “...Hugh.”

“Yeah! Definitely. See you later, Paul.”

Paul stared at Hugh for a few more moments, soaking in the brightness of his smile and eyes. But after a moment, realising he was staring, he finally stopped and turned away, unable to linger in that moment where he didn’t know what to say after already saying goodbye.

For a moment, he felt bleakness rush over him, as Hugh’s bright smile disappeared from his vision. But it was replaced a moment later by a giddy feeling, when he realized he’d be able to see that smile  _ every day.  _ He was going on a date with Hugh. This feeling inside of him, this happiness, wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. The smile on his face felt more sincere than it had in years. 

 

✭✩✭

 

Paul tapped his fingers against his leg, nervousness sparking through him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been on a real date. Hugh had refused to tell him where they were going, insisting that it should remain a surprise, and that didn’t make Paul any less worried (quite the opposite, actually). He had, regrettably, had to ask Ulua to help him figure out what to wear. All he ever wore was his Starfleet uniform, but he hardly felt that was appropriate. She had spent an entire day (wasted, in his opinion) leading him around, buying him new clothes to wear. He’d made her promise to not tell a soul about his date, and he somewhat trusted her to keep that secret (for a few days at least).

She’d claimed that she had the perfect shade of blue to ‘bring out his eyes’, and handpicked something for him to wear. He trusted her judgement (which was a terrible decision in most aspects) over his own. He was wearing a dark blue sweater, and jeans that Ulua said he  _ had  _ to wear because it brought out his ass. He didn’t bother protesting. 

The doorbell finally rang, knocking Paul out of his thoughts. He nervously fiddled with the sleeves of the sweater before quickly walking over to the door, opening it before he could lose his nerves. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Hugh said, smiling broadly at him. “You look...amazing.”

Paul could feel his cheeks heat up, and he shuffled his feet. Just stay calm, this wasn’t that big of a deal.  _ You’ve stood in front of a board of Starfleet directors with more confidence than this, Stamets. Just breathe. _ “Thanks, but you stole my compliment for you.” 

Paul could get lost watching the expressions change on Hugh’s face. Nothing seemed to linger for more than a few seconds, minute shifts in his smile or the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. Hugh laughed, and it brought out the color in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Hugh said, “I’ll let you speak first next time.”

Paul nodded, stepping out of the apartment and letting the door shut behind him. “Thank you.” He looked Hugh over, trying to get any sort of clue as to where they were going. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

Hugh grinned mischievously, turning and ambling down the hall, leaving Paul to follow after him. “Nope.”

Paul rolled his eyes as he quickly caught up, huffing. “If I end up hating it-”

“You won’t,” Hugh said quickly, looking down the hallway. “At least, I don’t think you will.” He looked back at Paul, glancing down at his legs. “How’s your walking ability?”

Paul grimaced. “Please, don’t make me go hiking.”

Hugh laughed, the sound loud and warm. “I won’t!” he promised, and looked at Paul with sincerity as he said, “If it gets too hard, just let me know and I can carry you. If you want, I mean.”

Paul pursed his lips together, looking across the hallway as they rounded a corner. “You seem to like carrying people about.”

“What makes you figure?” Hugh asked.

“You carried me from the hovertrain station when you were escorting me home from the hospital,” Paul said, raising an eyebrow. “And you keep offering to do it more.”

Hugh grinned at Paul. “Well, I don’t want to miss out on having my arms wrapped around a handsome man, is all. Can you blame me?”

Paul’s steps stuttered for a second, cheeks turning red. He huffed, rolling his eyes but not replying. How was Hugh so good with words? He couldn’t think of anything to say, walking in silence until they were waiting at the elevators.

“How’s your research coming along?”

Paul looked over at Hugh, surprised that he’d asked, but grateful he at least had something he knew how to talk about. “Straal and I have been busy working on gene-splicing our latest specimens into producing a stronger group of spores. We’re obviously able to detect that the mycelium network that exists, however, we are unable to access it due to the genetic weaknesses present in our current samples.”  
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside as Paul continued. He was gesturing wildly, trying to put his words words into action, but only making grand movements that didn’t seem to make sense. “By altering the current DNA sequences, we will soon be able to create specimens that will withstand the high intensity electrical pulses required for us to view into the network. Once we find an appropriate specimen and strengthen its DNA in a satisfactory way, we can work to create a full-sized cultivation bay of them and submit the sample to Starfleet itself, better strengthening a cause to give us our own lab.” 

He paused for a moment, remembering the last time he’d been on an actual  _ date, _ and how well that had gone. He lowered his hands, stuffing them into the pockets of his pants. “But, I’m sure that’s not very interesting,” he muttered. He couldn’t see the expression that was on Hugh’s face, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

“No, that’s great!” Hugh exclaimed, far more energetically than Paul expected. “Your own lab will allow you to work out a way to use the network, won’t it? You could revolutionize space travel as we know it. That’s groundbreaking, Paul--what wouldn’t be interesting about that?”

Paul snorted, rolling his eyes. “Who cares about what the ‘weird mushroom guy’ has to say?” He looked back up at Hugh.   
Hugh was frowning, and Paul wanted to bite back his words, just to make him smile again. “You’re not just a ‘weird mushroom guy,’” he said. “And I care. And the other cadets will care, too--when they’re using your and Straal’s technology to get around the cosmos.”

Paul wanted to smile, to try and ease away the frown Hugh had, but the raincloud that hovered over him made it too hard. “Please,” he scoffed, “as if that will happen. Starfleet barely believes in us as it is. I’m surprised they’ve even given us enough funding to start. They’re far too worried about--and I quote them, not myself--more ‘practical sciences.’” He scowled, practically spitting out the last few words.

“They’ll figure out your value soon enough,” Hugh said. “They’d be foolish not to.” Hugh paused for a moment before quickly continuing, “I mean the value of your research. Obviously. Not that you’re not--oh, look, this is our floor.” The elevator doors slid open, revealing the gleaming hallway of the top floor. 

Paul looked out over the hallway with a frown, at least thankful to change the subject again. “Are you just taking me on a tour of the dorms?” he asked, glancing back at Hugh. “I’m afraid I already went through that during initiation, Hugh.”

Hugh snorted, but he was smiling again, and Paul considered that a small success. “No, I’m not,” he said. “I have a plan. I promise.”  
“I won’t believe you unless you tell me what it is,” Paul threatened, although his tone betrayed he was merely teasing.

“That’s fine,” Hugh said. “As long as you keep following me, it doesn’t matter.”  
“I’m not one to blindly follow,” Paul said, slowing his stride. He tilted his head up, looking loftily at Hugh. “I may just go back and--”

“Noo!” Hugh laughed. “You can’t. You’re already all the way up here.”  
“What’s stopping me?” Paul asked, a smile already beginning to quirk up the corners of his lips.  
Hugh pursed his lips in thought. “I’ll give you a hint.”   
Paul lifted a brow. “I’m listening.” He almost wanted to laugh at the near absurdity of their conversation.  
“It’s against protocol,” Hugh said after a moment of thought. “Starfleet would hate it if they found out.”  
Paul’s smile turned into a grin. He was always ready to (secretly) stab Starfleet in its protocol-riddled back. “I wasn’t aware you were going rogue.”  
Hugh gave Paul a wink. “I have plenty of surprises up my sleeve,” he said with a grin. “Speaking of,” he stopped in front of a pair of double-doors made out of glass,  complete with silver metallic handles.  Paul had always considered such fancy architecture a flippant waste of money. Hugh pulled open one door, ushering Paul through. “After you, my dear.”  
Paul glanced around, slowly stepping through the doors. There was no one around, which slowly settled down his nerves. He wasn’t sure what he would do if there were hordes of people around, but he was sure it wouldn’t be good.

Before him was a small platform, set into the almost-top of a hill. A half-wall circled it, the top level with the burgundy-colored grass. Tables and benches dotted the area.

Paul glanced back at Hugh with a raised eyebrow. “I hate to tell you, but a balcony isn’t against Starfleet protocol.”

“We’re not there yet,” Hugh said as he walked over to the half-wall and climbed up it. He turned back to Paul and held a hand out to him. 

Paul stared at Hugh’s hand for a moment. He certainly didn’t  _ need  _ Hugh’s help. He was sure, even with his legs a little shaky, that he would manage it. But the fact that Hugh even offered to help was surprising, and it made Paul have to remember exactly where he was. He was on a date, with  _ Hugh Culber  _ of all people. He’d looked up Hugh in the Starfleet database, and the man had a record nearly as perfect as his. Maybe he should ask Hugh what made him want to be a  _ doctor  _ of all things. 

He spent another second looking at Hugh’s hand before taking it. His hand still felt too cold in Hugh’s too big and too warm one, and Hugh pulled him up the wall with no effort at all.

Paul pulled his hand away once he was steady on his feet, looking around with another huff. “You said we wouldn’t be hiking,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry,” Hugh said as he gestured towards the the top of the hill, already walking towards it. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

Paul eyed the top of the hill dubiously, but slowly followed after Hugh. The angle they were walking at made his thighs scream, but he ignored it.   
Hugh was waiting for him at the top of the hill. When Paul came up to his side, the grin on Hugh’s face tripled in size. “Surprise.” He gestured down to the small ledge that was built into the backside of the hill, set up as a perfect place to watch the sunset or night sky.

Paul frowned before looking down, eyes widening as he looked at the sight before him. It was a picnic, with each piece put down so carefully it was like looking at a painting. Candles, held in small mason jars, dotted the space, giving the platform a warm, golden glow, a basket rested on the side of the blanket, next to a speaker. 

Paul’s mouth open and closed for a few moments, unable to properly form words until he finally was able to pull his eyes away from the sight and look at Hugh. Which was also a mistake, as the glow in Hugh’s face only unraveled his nerves more, and he quickly looked away again. “I do hope you’re not planning on playing Kasseelian opera.”

“Actually, I was planning on giving you a live performance,” Hugh said, mirth in his voice.

Paul scowled, giving Hugh a withering glare.

Hugh laughed at his angry expression, once more smiling. “I’m just kidding Paul. It’s a Kasseelian-free playlist, I promise, with only the best songs from the late twentieth century.”

Paul snorted. “I’m sure that’s a short playlist then.”

“You’d be surprised,” Hugh replied. “Just let me know which songs you don’t like, and I can take them out.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. He had an infamous disliking of most things that weren’t fungi. “Oh, and you wouldn’t be offended?”

“Not a bit,” Hugh said with a nod, gesturing down to the picnic. “Would you like to actually get to the main event?” He then paused, grimacing in embarrassment. “Wait, that sounded terrible, I--”

“I’d love to,” Paul interjected, saving Hugh from the embarrassment as he slowly walked down to the platform, careful not to slip against the hill. “By the way, Hugh, this is…” he hesitated, trying to find the right word to use, “wonderful. Thank you.” He didn’t look back at Hugh as he slowly sat down on the blanket, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief as he put pressure off of his legs.

Hugh sat down beside Paul, so close that it startled Paul and made him pull his leg away. “Of course!” he said, reaching over to the basket. “I figured we could have a party of our own, so our respective roommates didn’t bother us about Ulua’s.”

“There is no way Straal could ever convince me to go to another party,” Paul scoffed, looking up to the night sky. He watched the stars sparkle overhead, wondering just how many of them he would visit one day. He could imagine the tendrils of the mycelium network scattered throughout the sky like the milky way. 

“I don’t know,” Hugh said, “we got to reunite at the last one.” 

Paul looked back at him. “I don’t think I’d count that as another meeting, considering I was far drunker than I’d ever care to admit.” Even thinking back on the vague memories that he had of that night caused him to grimace.   
“Then how about the morning after?” Hugh asked. “Before Geraldo rushed in--sorry about that, by the way, his filter is broken.”

Paul’s expression twisted worse, just thinking about it. “That was horrid.” 

“Wait--you’re talking about Ger, right?” Hugh asked, and when Paul looked back at him, Hugh was frowning.

Paul was confused. “Yes, of course. Public ridicule is not high on the list of things I enjoy subjecting myself to.”

Hugh looked relieved, and opened up the picnic basket. “Well, I can’t argue with that.” He pulled out a cherry cheesecake, carefully setting it on the blanket. “I wasn’t sure what sort of dessert was your favourite, but I hope you like cheesecake.” He handed a plate over to Paul.

Paul took the plate, eying the cheesecake. “We’ll see.” 

Hugh cut him a piece, carefully putting it on Paul’s plate before cutting one for himself. “It’s handmade, with a little help. I hope it lives up to the expectation.”

Paul took a piece off, inspecting it closely before finally eating it. Flavour burst through his mouth, and delight shined across his face. “This is delicious.”

Hugh grinned broadly. “Really? I’ve never been much of a baker, I was afraid something would go wrong.”

Paul shook his head, smiling lightly in return. “It’s perfect.” He took another bite before looking up at the sparkling stars again. After mulling over the cheesecake for a bit, Paul asked, “What made you want to become a doctor, Hugh? And why for Starfleet?”

Hugh sliced himself a piece of cheesecake, putting it on his plate while he thought for a moment. “Well...My family isn’t exactly poor, but there wasn’t a lot of choices we were allowed to make. We really had just enough to get by most times. I wanted to make the world a better place, make it some place where more people can make choices, where people don’t have to decide between going to the hospital or paying the bills, you know? Starfleet, well, I never went off world much, it wasn’t an option for us. But if I can travel the cosmos and live by a creed of helping whoever I can, it just sounds perfect you know?”

Paul stared at him for a few moments. There was a sparkle in Hugh’s eyes (maybe it was just the reflection of the stars) that spoke of great hope for the future, a determination to follow his dreams. There was something noble about the way he held himself up, and it made something warm settle in Paul’s heart. He hoped that Hugh would be able to realize his dreams.

“What about you, Paul?”

Paul fiddled with the edge of the sleeve on his sweater, looking sheepish. “Oh, well, I’ve always had a fascination with the sciences, but nothing really stood out to me until I learnt more about Mycena chlorophos from a professor at the college I was attending. From then on, the idea of mycelium continued to fascinate me. When I figured that it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, study it, see how it could connect into the greater cosmos, I knew that Starfleet was the only place that had the resources that could fund me.” He twisted the edge of his sleeve between his fingers. “There wasn’t really another choice.”

Hugh nodded. “That makes sense, and we both know Starfleet is going to give you the money you need the second you graduate.”

Paul smiled thinly. “That’s all I can hope for I suppose.” 

“Hope for? I know it’ll happen. Cmon, what’s not to love about space mushroom networks?”

Paul snorted, taking another bite from the cheesecake. “I wouldn’t know. Ask the board of directors.” 

Before long, they’d run out of cheesecake (Paul definitely ate more than Hugh, but neither mentioned it). After the last slice was gone, Hugh reached over to turn on the stereo, the music quiet.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Hugh said.

“As long as you don’t start humming again, I won’t,” Paul said as he laid back on the blanket.

Hugh laughed as he laid back next to Paul. “And there go my plans to serenade you. Next time, then.”

Paul looked up at the clear night sky, not responding except for a roll of his eyes.

“It’s amazing, you know,” Hugh began, his arms crossed behind his head. “I’ve looked up at the sky above Earth so many times, imagining what it would be like to finally travel through the stars. Everything looks so similar, but different, when I look up now.”

Paul looked over the stars. “The positions of the planets in Federation space cause the night sky to look vastly different, especially dependent upon the pollution and visibility of our greater galaxy.” He pointed towards the far-left side of their view. “Over there lies our original solar system. You can see the sun, slightly brighter than the stars around it.”

Hugh followed his finger with a slight furrow in his brow. “Where?”

“Next to the Uman constellation. Do you see it?” 

“Where--oh!” Hugh grinned. “That’s amazing! It looks so far away from here.”

“Well, it is 4.367 light years away, so I would hope it would be rather small.”

Hugh rolled his eyes, a teasing smile on his face again. “Okay Mr. Astromycologist, not all of us have space distances to their third decimal just in our heads.”

Paul huffed. “It’s valuable information to know! I memorized it before I was 10.”

“Before you were 10?”

“I started learning Astronomy from a young age. My parents wanted me to understand where we were going from a young age.”

“That’s...impressive.”

Paul flushed red, turning his head away to look at another section of the sky. “It was required, it’s not like I had much choice in the matter,” he muttered.

Hugh was silent for a moment before he asked, “Hey Paul, if you could travel anywhere in the universe, where would you go?”  
Paul frowned, thinking as he looked over the sky. “I don’t know. Somewhere with a mild enough climate my mushrooms could grow and the star’s rays wouldn’t burn my skin.”  
Hugh chuckled. “That’s not unexpected.”

Paul shivered, the cold night air digging into him. “What about you?”

“There’s a solar system that’s full of bioluminescence, with planets visible from 10 light years away. I’d like to see it one day.”

“I suppose that would be interesting. I wonder what types of spores would grow there.” Paul crossed his arms over his chest.

“You know...It’s not like the weather can make you get a cold, but if you’re feeling chilly, I can warm you up.”

Paul looked over at Hugh. “What?”  
Hugh shifted, pulling one arm out from behind his head and laying it down, inviting Paul to snuggle up to him. “I’ve been told I have very warm hugs. But only if you want to, of course.”

Paul hesitated, a frown on his face. But when he shivered again, he scooted over slowly towards Hugh, lying his head down against Hugh’s forearm. “You  _ are  _ relatively warm.”

Hugh wrapped his arm around Paul, grinning. “Glad I could help.”

Paul’s cheeks turned a bright red, and he cursed his too pale skin for changing color so quickly. But, he had to admit, he did feel warmer, pressed up against Hugh’s side. But that could also just be the embarrassment. His fingers tapped a staccato rhythm against his thigh. 

“Are you excited to finish the internships here?” Hugh asked. “I felt like two months would have been such a short amount of time,  but I feel like I’ve gained a lot of experience from it too.”

Paul gave a short hum before answering. “Leaving will be a disappointment for Straal and I, as our research has only just begun, and the Academy hasn’t approved of us continuing our project back on Earth. We’re hoping to use the data we’ve gathered as well as Eburrack’s approval to push a second request, but,” Paul sighed, “due to recent events, they might claim we don’t have enough experience with the machinery.”

“Starfleet will recognize your potential sometime. They’re idiots for not knowing it yet.”

Paul nodded in agreement. “Yes, they certainly are.” He closed his eyes for a few moments, willing his nerves to calm down. “But, what about you? Well, I mean, more about...you. Tell me about yourself.”

“Well,” Hugh said, and Paul could hear the smile in his voice. “How about a game instead?”

“I’m horrible at games.”

Hugh laughed. “This one is fun, I promise. It’s called two lies and a truth. You tell me three things about yourself, and I guess which is the truth.”

Paul looked dubious, but nodded. “Fine. You go first.”

“Let’s see...I like sunsets more than sunrises, my favourite color is blue, and I once ran a cat shelter for a month.”

Paul scowled. “Some of those are incredibly vague.”

“That’s the fun part. You have to figure it out!” Hugh said, squeezing his shoulder gently. Paul could feel the tenseness of his muscles die just fractionally. 

Paul huffed. “Well blue is the most common favourite color, so I’ll go with that.”

“Nooope,” Hugh said, popping the p. “The cat shelter was the truth.”

“You ran a cat shelter for a month??”

“Yeah, there were a lot of stray cats in our neighborhood, so I started up an impromptu shelter in our backyard. We had around 15 cats there.”

“15 cats in your backyard?” Paul exclaimed. “That’s insanity.”

“It wasn’t that bad. It was fun, actually. I only stopped because my mom said we couldn’t keep getting food for all of them. They still hung out in our backyard for a while though.” Before Paul could respond, Hugh continued, “It’s your turn now though Paul. What are your statements?”

Paul considered his options, trying to think of something  _ interesting  _ about him. All he could think of were mushroom facts, which weren’t interesting to most people. “I…have only ever had one pet, I have two PhDs, and my parents send me a weekly email updating me on the status of their stock purchases.”

“If mine are too vague, yours are super specific,” Hugh protested.

Paul shrugged. “You learn more that way, don’t you?”

“Well, I find it hard to believe you’d have  _ two  _ PhDs at this age, so I’m going to go wiiiiiiith, the pet one.”

Paul huffed. Apparently, his life was more obvious than he thought. “You’re right. I don’t have two PhDs, only one.”

“Wait, really?” Hugh was surprised, looking over at Paul. “You have a PhD?”

“Yes, of course. I got it soon after my Bachelor’s. I had gotten it in Biochemistry before working on my Biomechanical Engineering Masters, but that was when I learnt about Astromycology, and I realized only Starfleet had the funding I needed. Then I moved to the Academy here.”

Hugh was silent for a few moments. Paul bit the inside of his cheek, cursing himself. Who would want to listen to him gloat about his achievements? He was about to apologise when Hugh finally spoke.

“Wow that’s...amazing. I couldn’t even imagine. When did you graduate high school?”

Paul fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, running his fingers along the fabric and worrying it away. “About...14? It’s not that impressive. Aren’t you at the top of your class as well?”

“Yeah, sure, but I-”

“I could never complete the medical track, let alone come on top. The marks you have are impeccable, and the hours you’ve put in are inhuman.”

“Did you look me up in the Starfleet Database?” Hugh sounded like he was just trying to hold back a laugh.

Paul could feel his ears turn red. “Well, I, I was curious, and once I knew you were a cadet, I thought it would be easy to learn more about you, and-”

Hugh spared him from continuing to babble. “It’s cute.”  Paul’s words sputtered into nothingness as Hugh laughed. But the laugh wasn’t mocking, and instead of making Paul feel like he was the butt of a private joke, he felt like he should join in and laugh with Hugh, like he was a part of it. Hugh squeezed his shoulder again and Paul relaxed. “It’s my turn now, so let me see...I was once dared to eat a pound of lemons, and did it, the only time I’ve ever been swimming in the ocean I nearly drowned, and my parents have a library of physical, paper books.” 

“The library,” Paul said immediately, “You seem like quite a fan of real books, you were reading  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray  _ in the cafe.”

Hugh arched an eyebrow. “You were paying attention to the book I was reading?”

“It’s not as if people read books these days, I was intrigued by why you bothered to.” 

“You have to admit, there’s something uniquely satisfying about holding the book in your hands, isn’t there?”

“I’ve never bothered with it, so I wouldn’t know.” Paul said, rolling his eyes. “Completely unnecessary.” 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to fix that then.”

Paul scoffed, rolling his eyes again. “Unneeded.” Then, his PADD started buzzing. Frowning, Paul sat up, snagging it out of his bag to check it. He accepted the call from Straal. “Is there a reason you felt the nee-”

“It’s working, Paul, it’s working!” Straal’s face took over the entirety of the screen, wide blown eyes and face warped in a massive grin. “The synthesization! The cultivation bay is  _ full  _ of our mushrooms! They’ve sprouted in less than two hours!” 

Paul jumped to his feet. “Less than two hours? I’ll be at the lab in half an hour.” He disconnected the call, shoving his PADD back into his pocket. This was amazing news! With their hypothesis officially confirmed, the idea of Starfleet giving him and Straal their own research facility was finally tangible. He was just about to leave when Hugh’s voice stopped him. Right, he’d forgotten about that.

“Paul!”

Paul looked back at Hugh, a slight furrow in his brow. “I-”

Hugh shook his head, but the smile on his face looked a little strained. “I’ll call you.”

Paul nodded a few times. “Right, yes- Sorry, goodbye.” Then he turned back around and quickly walked back inside. 

Part of him felt awful for abandoning Hugh. He realized that it wasn’t the  _ right  _ thing to do, but to him, his research mattered far more. He’d apologise, probably, later.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days passed in a blur for Paul. Along with his recovery finally given the full stamp of approval, the success of their synthesization technique meant that he’d been getting little sleep, writing nothing but reports as he and Straal prepared an appeal to send to the board of directors to get their research approved for the upcoming semester.

It had been two days of no sleep and constantly moving, between packing up and writing everything down, before he got a message from Hugh. 

_ I’m beginning to understand why you’re so addicted to coffee. _

Paul at first had assumed the message was from Straal (who was packing in the lab) and had scanned over it quickly while, ironically enough, brewing another large pot of coffee. He was about to reply, assuming it was Straal, when he saw the name at the top read  _ Prince Charming <3\.  _ His fingers froze against the screen. “I hate you Straal,” he muttered to himself, quickly changing the name back to Hugh Culber, before replying.

_ I wouldn’t say I’m addicted.  _

By that point, the coffee finished and he poured himself a mug, stirring in  _ real  _ sugar and taking a satisfied sip. There wasn’t an immediate reply, so he went back to his packing work. Neither he nor Straal had very many possessions, so it was mainly a careful packaging of the equipment they had, rather than trying to fit piles of clothes into the smallest amount of bags possible, as he knew some cadets were. Ulua had called him at least 5 times, begging him to help her pack it all in. He’d, obviously, refused; he had more important things to do.

The next time he’d bothered to check his messages was on the hovertrain back to the lab, seeing a message from Hugh listed on the top.

_ I’d definitely disagree. Anyone who takes in that much sugar has an addiction to it. _

Paul scoffed, rolling his eyes and sending back a reply. What time was it? Midnight? That wasn’t so bad. 

_ Then I would be addicted to the sugar, not the coffee. _

Hugh replied almost immediately. The buzz startled Paul and made him nearly drop the PADD.

_ Both are addictive, you’re addicted to both. _

_ Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s midnight. _

_ I work the night shift. Shouldn’t YOU be asleep? _

Paul screwed his face up, and he didn’t reply for several minutes, watching the city blur past outside the window. Unable to think of a clever enough reply, he only typed:  _ I work the night shift,  _ and left it at that, shoving his PADD into his bag. 

He and Hugh didn’t really get a chance to see each other again as the end of the internship drew to a close and the chaos grew only worse. But somehow they’d managed to message each other throughout the days. Paul would ask Hugh how his final exam went, and Hugh would ask him if he’d had anything besides coffee that day. 

_ When was the last time you slept?  _ Hugh messaged one night.

Paul yawned, rubbing his left eye as he sealed another container of spores. “Straal, another container ready to go, do you-”

“Got it! We’re just about finished here, we might actually make the shuttle to the ship on time! Imagine that.”

_ I’ll sleep when I’m back on Earth, _ Paul replied, standing up to stretch. He typed the coordinates to their ship into the side of the container and watched it roll off. “One down, only 23 more to go,” he muttered, glancing back across the lab. He was still surprised Professor Eburrack had let them take some of the equipment from his lab, so even if they didn’t get a fully functioning lab funded, they could run their own experiments (dangerously, but that never bothered Paul) from their apartment just off campus.

He picked up his PADD, taking an inventory log of the latest package they sent out to the ship. Hugh sent another reply as he did.

_ Have you not slept? It’s been 4 days.  _

Paul bristled at the words, muttering under his breath as he typed something back.  _ That’s not that long.  _

_ Get some sleep Paul. Please. _

Paul turned off the PADD’s display, tossing it onto the desk and grumbling as he moved to the next container. Please, he knew how to take care of himself.

 ✭✩✭

Everything was running smoothly, almost too smoothly, and Paul was only waiting for something to go wrong. They were actually  _ ahead  _ of schedule, which was virtually unheard of when it came to him and Straal. The lab was completely packed up, and all that was left was their personal possessions in their apartment. They were scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon and maybe,  _ just maybe,  _ Paul would actually sleep tonight.

He’d been keeping track of how many cups of coffee he was drinking daily (hourly) at one point, but he’d given up at least a day or so ago. The total number was nearing 100 over the last week and he didn’t want to keep counting. 

There was a knock on the door that startled Paul so much he jolted, spilling hot coffee on his arm. “Fuck!” He grabbed a nearby rag, running it under the water and holding it against his arm before scrambling over to the door, kicking the edge of the couch in process, nearly falling over, and cursing up a second storm. Finally he managed to wrench the door open, a horrible scowl on his face. “What do you want?!” he snapped.

Hugh was standing at the door, raising an eyebrow. “Hello to you too.”

Paul was startled to see Hugh, blinking at him a few times, his eyebrows furrowing. “What are you doing here?” he asked, voice far less accusatory than he hoped. Without quite realizing it, he stepped back, inviting Hugh inside.

As Hugh stepped in, the door slid shut behind him. “I’ve finished my packing, and I figured it’d be best to help you finish yours so you could actually get some sleep.”

Paul’s apartment was probably the cleanest it’d ever been since he moved in. Although a few boxes sat about, mostly half full of carefully, intricately packed items, there was no more junk on the floor and everything was back to its usual place. 

Paul turned back towards the kitchen, shaking his head. He looked at the burn on his arm, muttering under his breath. It was red, but nothing looked very permanent. He’s had worse. He dropped the wet rag in the sink and grabbed his half-empty mug. 

Hugh followed after him, carefully taking the mug out of his hands before Paul could take a sip from it. “You need to sleep, Paul. You’re bordering on what, ninety-ish hours without sleep?”

Paul scowled, reaching to snatch the cup back, but before he could, Hugh had dumped the coffee down the sink. “I’m fine,” Paul snapped. “I don’t need your advice on the matter.”

“I can’t have you dying of sleep deprivation before I even get to go on a second date with you. Or, at least finish a date. I’ll finish packing for you, you should sleep.”

Paul’s scowl only grew, and he threw his hands up in annoyance. “I have a job I need to finish, I can’t just go to sleep!”

Hugh took a tricorder out of his back pocket, noticing Paul’s arm and immediately focusing on it. “Is your arm alright? Let me fix that up for you. You’re nearly finished packing, and you’re living off of sugar-infused coffee. You’re allowed to sleep.”

Paul complied, holding his arm out to Hugh before he really registered he had done it. “I don’t  _ need  _ sleep.”

Hugh gently took his wrist, running the machine over the length of his arm and soothing the injury quickly. “Yes, you do. I came here to give you some help, okay? You can toss me out if you’d like but I’m  _ worried _ for you.”

Paul’s scowl deepened, staring at Hugh for a few moments. Hugh only stared back, refusing to back down. Paul pulled his hand back, the contact with Hugh’s warm hand sending far too many confusing messages, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Fine,” Paul grumbled. “You win. Straal’s going to be pissed if I’m asleep and everything isn’t done.” 

“I’ll tell him to sleep too. Now go. There’s not a lot left-”

“Which means I can easily finish it before-” 

Hugh interrupted him before he could even finish the thought. “Which means  _ I  _ have no issue helping out, and you can sleep earlier.”

Paul started walking towards his bedroom. “Annoying medical track cadets, thinking they know everything.  _ I’m _ the one with the Ph.D,” he grumbled on the way. When he entered his bedroom, he could feel exhaustion start to seep in, like his body  _ knew  _ he was finally sleeping. 

“Computer, lights off,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face as he unzipped his uniform jacket and kicked off his shoes, only managing that before falling onto the bed. His tight muscles seemed to finally relax as he closed his eyes. Maybe he  _ did _ need to sleep. Not that he’d ever admit Hugh was right.

✭✩✭

Paul was back at Starfleet Academy soon after that. The ride on the ship back to Earth was horribly unpleasant, with Straal singing off-beat songs in his ear the whole time. He collapsed onto the couch in the center. The apartment on Earth was eerily similar to the one back on Alpha Centauri, only slightly bigger. 

“You ready to die Stamets?” Straal asked, far too cheerfully, as he put the last of their 5 total mugs onto the shelf in their tiny kitchen. 

Paul slowly looked over at Straal. “What?”

“Our 7 am class, don’t you remember? History of mycology, with one good ol’ Professor Heimbrack?”

“Fuck,” Paul groaned, slamming his head back against the couch. “Don’t remind me. As if you and I both don’t already know the history of mycology. I think Starfleet just hates us.”

“Oh, definitely. I’m blaming your paper from last semester. You went  _ over _ the word count by how many pages again?”

“Only 12 or so. It was an interesting subject! Only giving me 20 pages to talk about the underlying quantum network that connects biology and chemistry? I have a  _ degree  _ in that.” 

“You never fail to remind me Stamets. Just because you have a Ph.D  _ and  _ a Masters doesn’t mean you’re better at biology than I am.”

“Mmmm, I think it does,” Paul said lightly, grabbing his PADD to check his latest surge of email. “I’m not saying there’s anything  _ wrong  _ with Xenobiomedical Engineering, but-”

“Don’t you even start. You know damn well my degree is cool.” 

Paul rolled his eyes again. “What are you studying now, again? It’s certainly not anything related to Xenobiology.”

“Fuck you. At least I didn’t apply to Starfleet against my parents’ wishes and constantly have to fight them over everything I do.”

“Low blow, Straal,” Paul said, but it didn’t quite sound like he cared. He was reviewing the syllabus for his upcoming Xenobiology, ironically enough, class when he got a new message.

_ Hey Paul, I hope you got everything set up alright! What’s your schedule like? _

Straal heard the ding from Paul’s PADD and grinned over at him. “Another message from Prince Charming?”

Paul typed a reply back. “Shut up.” 

_ I have a class 3 days a week at 0700, and I end most days at 2200. Nothing out of the ordinary. _

_ 0700 to 2200? No wonder you never sleep. I don’t start until 9. _

What a dream. Sleeping in until 9? Paul wished he could do that. He groaned, already thinking about how many sleepless nights he would have. Before he could reply, Hugh sent another message

_ I usually go on a jog at 6, though. You could join me. _

Paul snorted.  _ That’s literally never going to happen. I don’t jog, let alone early in the morning.  _

“Stamets, help me with this!” Straal was putting a heavy box full of their equipment in the study room. Or, as it was now, a room for  _ real  _ research. Paul dropped his PADD, standing up and grabbing the far end of the box, helping Straal carefully set it on the floor. 

“That’s the last of them, isn’t it?” Paul asked, glancing at the number on the side of the box. 

“Yeah, should be it,” Straal said, glancing around the room.

“Perfect, I’m going to sleep then. Since we have to wake up in...what time is it, computer?”

_ 03:07. _

“Three hours. Great. Goodnight.” Paul turned around, snagging his PADD and falling into bed quickly with a yawn. He looked back at Hugh’s last message, thinking. Wait, what if he...Paul sat up quickly, typing out a message and hoping Hugh would see it before he started class. 

_ If you wake up at 6, and don’t start class until 9, what’s the rest of your morning schedule like? _

Paul waited ten minutes before figuring Hugh had fallen asleep, and he dropped his PADD on the nightstand and rolled over, burying his face into the pillow and falling asleep quickly. 

✭✩✭

When morning came, Paul could just barely drag himself out of bed at 6:45. Class started in 15 minutes, it took at least 12 minutes to walk across campus, and he couldn’t care less. He’d skip it if Heimbrack didn’t take attendance  _ daily. _ “Computer, lights to 50%, synthesize a pot of coffee,” he grumbled, squinting in the new light as he grabbed his uniform and pulled it on. 

He shuffled out, grabbing his PADD and throwing it in his bag. On cue, Straal appeared in his own doorway, uniform half-zipped and looking like the dead. Paul grabbed his thermos from the counter, pouring half of the synthesized pot into his thermos. “Mornin’.”

Straal grunted, taking the rest of the pot. “We’re gunna be late. Heimbrack is gunna kill us.”

Paul screwed the lid on. “Everyone will be late. C’mon, let’s go.” 

He didn’t check his messages until class had started. Hugh had replied to him at 6:03.  _ Well, I usually finish my workout at 7:30, go back to my dorm and go get breakfast at the cafe down the street before class starts. _

Well, Paul only knew of one cafe that was close to campus, so he figured that must be where it was. He decided he would meet Hugh at this cafe, and have breakfast with him. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? That was a nice thing people did. 

Paul was itching for the class to end, tapping his fingers rapidly against the desk he sat at, once in a while typing something down on his PADD that he wanted to remember later. What would Hugh think if Paul just appeared in the cafe? What if Hugh never showed up? What if Hugh thought he looked silly? No, that was absurd. He needed to simply calm down, breathe, try to focus on the class. The only notes he ended up taking were a jumbled mess of words and dates.

Finally, the class came to an end, and Paul told Straal he’d find him in the lab later and quickly left. He arrived at the cafe at 8:15 and nervously looked around before ordering a coffee, adding in plenty of sugar, and finding a seat at a booth. What would he even say?  _ Hello, don’t mind me, just wanted to see your schedule so I could pop out of the darkness of the cafe and scare you.  _ He took a long gulp of his coffee. It was too hot, but he was already committed to it. His mind was running faster than he could keep up with, thinking of all the ways this could go horribly wrong.

Finally, after 5 minutes of waiting and worrying, Hugh walked in the door. Paul could feel his heart stop. He couldn’t move, hands wrapped too tightly around the cup of coffee, mouth open but no words coming out. 

As Hugh was ordering something from the menu, Paul worked up the courage to actually say something to him, his fingers tangling together along the edges of the to-go cup. As Hugh was turning to leave, Paul finally called out to him.

“Hugh!”

Hugh stopped, looking back at Paul with wide, surprised eyes. Then, a grin broke across his face, and he slid into the seat across from Paul at the booth. “Good morning.”

Paul smiled thinly, taking a long gulp of coffee to give himself a pause before saying anything. He put the mug back on the table, his fingers still clutching it too tightly. “Good morning.” 

“Is this why you asked about my schedule? To meet me here?” Hugh asked as he unwrapped his too-healthy looking breakfast burrito.

Paul shrugged, tapping his fingers against the cup as Hugh took his first bite. “After my class, I dont have a class again until 10. I figured there was enough of a time gap that the two of us could meet up. It was an obvious choice.” 

The grin on Hugh’s face only got bigger. “I’m glad that spending your morning with me is the most obvious choice.”

Paul picked up his cup again, huffing into it to hide the smile that curled at the edges of his lips. “I would prefer to be sleeping, but we don’t always get what we want.” 

Hugh nodded, taking another bite before responding. “Well, spending my morning with you is definitely my number one choice.”

Paul scoffed. “Please, I’m sure that’s a gross exaggeration.” 

“I’m always honest, it’s part of my charm,” Hugh said, folding the left-over wrapper of his breakfast into a tiny square.

“My mother always said that honesty won the business deal, so long as you knew how to manipulate the truth.” Paul took another long gulp of his coffee, realising ruefully that he’d finished it off.

Hugh slowly nodded. “That’s...an interesting viewpoint,” he said carefully.

Paul bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly realising his error. How was it that he always forgot to think when he was around Hugh? “She’s an...interesting woman.” He paused for a second, going to take another sip of coffee before remembering it was all gone. “Anyway, what’s the first class you have coming up?”

There was a look in Hugh’s eyes that didn’t quite want to accept the quick change of subject, but he went with it anyway. “I have Advanced Xenobiology, with a focus on Tellarites.” 

“Tellarites? An interesting choice. Why?” Paul set the empty cup down, considering getting a second cup, and what Hugh might say if he did. 

“I thought it would be a good opportunity to learn more than a basic overview of multiple species.”

Paul nodded at his words, before looking at his empty cup again. He couldn’t deal with this. “Give me just a second,” he interjected, standing up. “I’ll be right back.” He went back over to the front counter, ordering a second coffee, and sitting back down with it clutched in his hands. 

He took a sip of the hot coffee, looking back at Hugh. Hugh was raising an eyebrow at him and Paul blinked, tapping his fingers against the edge of the cup. “What?”

“How many cups of coffee have you had today?” Hugh asked him.  _ Oh great, doctoring. _

Paul shrugged, keeping it nonchalant. “4-5? Not that many.” He took another sip of his sugary coffee. “I’ve already been awake for too many hours.”

“I’d say you should try decaf, but the level of sugar in that cup could kill you with or without the caffeine.” 

Paul snorted. “5 cups doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I’ve done before. You’d have a heart attack if I told you the upper limits of my caffeine consumption.”

Hugh eyed his cup. “I don’t doubt it, but I think you’d beat me to it.”

“Please,” Paul said with a roll of his eyes. “Just wait until finals.” He took a sip of coffee, realising with a sudden jolt that there was the real possibility of Hugh being around still come finals. He wasn’t sure how to react to the fluttering feeling in his stomach. He settled for another swig of coffee.

“Weren’t you trying to convince me you aren’t addicted a while ago?” Hugh asked. “Because that sounds like a dependency to me.”

Paul waited for the usual spike of irritation to come, but it felt...muted. There was absolutely no way he was beginning to  _ enjoy  _ having this conversation. He glared at Hugh, the only thing he knew how to do. “Do you  _ ever  _ stop doctoring?”

Hugh froze for a second, and Paul felt an icy trickle of panic run down his spine. But Hugh seemed to be fine a moment later, and Paul couldn’t tell if he imagined it or not. “Sure,” he said easily. “As soon as you limit yourself to three cups a day, I’ll back off.”

“Not happening,” Paul said with a snort. If his eyes could roll any further into the back of his head, he was sure they would’ve accomplished that in this moment.

Hugh huffed laughter, a grin covering his face. “I still have plenty of time to convince you otherwise. But I’ll back off for now. Tell me about your first class!”

Paul grimaced. “Awful, as I suspected. Although the history of mycology is an interesting enough subject, Heimbrack manages to bore me to sleep with it. Granted, I know a lot of the information already, but apparently taking the final day one ‘isn’t allowed’ and I should ‘stop acting like I’m better than the professor,’ even though I could teach half the classes here easily.” His voice was weaved with bitterness, and he took a long gulp of sugary coffee to stop himself from going on a full rant about Heimbrack.

Hugh didn’t look annoyed at his outburst though, he only nodded sympathetically. “I believe that. But, hey--at least it’s only one semester, right? He’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

Paul grunted, looking down at his mug. “Not soon enough,” he grumbled. Fuck, he was out of coffee. He looked back up at Hugh, gauging what he would say if he went to get  _ another _ cup. 

Hugh seemed to sense his motive, and sighed, waving his hand towards the counter. “Go ahead. Drink yourself into a stupor.”

Paul stood up, taking his empty cup with him with the intent to reuse it. He smiled down at Hugh. “Thanks dear,” he said, turning and walking back to the front counter before the words he said quite registered to his brain. He was halfway to the counter before freezing in place. Had he really just done  _ that?  _

Coffee was the last thing on his mind now. He had to leave and never look back. Throw himself into a vat of acid to save himself from this embarrassment. He abruptly turned, robotic like, and refused to look back at Hugh as he very quickly, nearly running, walked out of the cafe. 

Paul continued down the side of the street back to campus, cursing himself under his breath. “Way to go Paul, making an utter fool of yourself again. Nothing can be easy or simple with you, can it?” He was about to round the corner when he head Hugh’s voice, freezing him in place. 

“Paul! Wait up!”

Paul winced, debating whether or not to run or stay.  In the end, he figured that Hugh could run faster than him and he reluctantly turned around to face Hugh. As Hugh got closer, Paul’s doubt fired up again and he was just about to turn around when Hugh spoke, a broad grin on his face.

“If you’re going to leave early from every date, maybe we should make up a sign or something.”

Paul’s brows furrowed in confusion. “...What?”

“Maybe a birdcall,” Hugh said, sounding like he was trying too hard to ignore what just happened moments ago. “Or tugging at your left earlobe.”

Paul narrowed his eyes at Hugh, trying to gauge what he was really feeling (newsflash: he was terrible at reading other people). “You’re...not upset.”

“Oh, about what happened in there?” Hugh asked as he gestured back at the cafe. “Of course not,” he said. His smile grew stiff and awkward, too forced. “Stuff sometimes just slips out. I get it.” He was silent for a moment, then quickly added, “I mean--not that I would mind even if it didn’t just slip out. We have been on a date, and--” Hugh cut himself off, falling into a sudden silence.

Paul tapped his fingers against the edge of the empty cup he was still carrying, biting the inside of his cheek before managing to speak. “I’m sorry. I’m,” he hesitated, trying to find the right word as his fingers tangled together along the edge of the cup, “unused to relat--talking to people, anymore.”   
The smile on Hugh’s face softened. “It’s no problem,” he reassured. “I’ve got foot-in-the-mouth syndrome myself, too. There’s no need to apologize.”

Paul smiled thinly, “Perhaps so.” He fought against the urge to turn around and leave. He’d been doing that a lot lately, it seemed. Then again, it was a lot easier than facing this awkward reality. All he knew was that at this moment, he wanted to abandon the situation. He tapped his fingernail against the edge of the cup. Before he could find anything to say though, Hugh spoke up.

“Well!” Hugh said. “Now that that’s, uh, resolved--” He paused, some revelation seeming to come over his face. “...Hey, do you happen to know the time? I left my PADD at home.”  
Paul nodded, untangling one hand from the cup to pull his PADD out of his bag, flicking it on. “It is 8:47.” 

“Okay, I have to go Paul,” Hugh said quickly, words running together as he turned away, starting to jog away, “I’ll see you later, we’re definitely going on a third date lov--” Hugh cut off before finishing his sentence, already too far away for Paul to really feel he could comment.

“Goodbye,” was all Paul managed to say, eyes watching Hugh’s backside as he ran. Damn, that man was  _ fit. _ That tight Starfleet uniform definitely did Hugh some favours.  _ Damnit Paul, not the time.  _ Paul turned, heading back towards his apartment. He had at least an hour until class, and no assignments to start.

Might as well get a jumpstart on his newest research, right?

✭✩✭

Their breakfast meetings continued, three times a week (Monday, Wednesday, Friday), every day that Paul actually was awake sometime before 1100. When Wednesday rolled around, he sat nervously, fingers tapping against the edge of his PADD as he read over a mycology article made a century ago. 

The clock ticked down to 8:21, which was one minute later than Hugh walked in the first time, and Paul could feel his intestines twisting around inside. He finished off his first (technically, third) cup of coffee and ordered another one, black. 

His fingers tapped rapidly against the edge of the cup, trying to focus back onto his article, on the dates and times and theories listed.

The clock ticked to 8:25.

Paul didn’t remember drinking down half of his cup of scorching coffee, but when he looked down into the mug that’s what he saw. He considered leaving, unable to come up with a reason to stay. He’d wait another minute. Nothing more.

The clock ticked to 8:28, and Hugh walked in. Before he even walked up to the counter, his eyes turned to Paul (who was sitting in the same seat as before). A bright smile lit across Hugh’s face as he waved at Paul before going to the counter.

Paul’s rapidly tapping finger stuttered to a stop, now only wrapping around the cup as he let his PADD slowly turn off. 

Hugh slid into the seat across from him, the smile still playing across his lips. “Good morning Paul,” Hugh said with his usual energy, but there was something in his eyes that screamed exhaustion. It was only the third day of the semester; had something happened?

“What’s so good about it?” Paul grumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. He considered asking if something was wrong, but figured it wasn’t worthwhile.

“Well, I got to see you, so that makes my morning special already.”

Paul choked on his coffee, coughing and sputtering while his face blushed a bright red. Hugh looked concerned for a second, but Paul took another swig of coffee and after another cough or two, calmed himself down. “That is the most absurd thing I’ve heard all week.” 

“What, you don’t think anyone can enjoy your company?” Hugh asked, raising a brow.

Paul’s grip on his drink tightened, but he tried to look nonchalant as he shrugged, taking a sip from the black coffee. “Past experience has told me that.” He needed to keep a tighter grip on the things he said.

Hugh frowned, and Paul had to look away from the expression. “What about Straal?” he asked. “You two spend tons of time together; he must enjoy hanging around you.”

Paul hesitated, trying to think of exactly how to word his response. “That’s different,” he said, frowning. “Straal is my research partner. He understands my work, and can help with it. People who can’t understand don’t like talking to me.” He took another sip from his mug, noting that he was out, damn. “Not that I mind, of course; dull-minded people aren’t worth my time.”

“I love spending time with you,” Hugh protested, “and hearing about your research. People who don’t try to listen don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Paul stared at Hugh, trying to once again search for the lie in his voice and not finding it. It was unfathomable. In his past relationships (the one), it’d never been like this. Granted, if he looked back at it now, he wasn’t sure if the time he spent with Steven really was dating at all. “...Why?”

Hugh looked confused. “Why what?”

Paul leaned back into the booth, the empty cup still clutched between his hands. “Why are you so...so invested?” If he hadn’t been holding the cup so tightly, his hands would have been gesturing about. “Ever since we met, you’ve seemed interested in my work.”

“It’s interesting stuff,” Hugh said, as if it was terribly obvious. He paused, taking a bite of his burrito before continuing. “I mean, it could revolutionize the way the galaxy works. It’s amazing how many strides you’re making as a cadet. Even one with a PhD,” Hugh grinned at Paul. “You’re a genius. Anyone who can’t see that is missing out.”

Paul stared at Hugh, unable to think of a reply. Words seemed to twist together inside his mouth. “I--” He stopped, looking at the slightly-trembling mug in his hands. “I’ll be right back,” he said abruptly, standing up and quickly moving to the counter.

He really needed more coffee for this. He refused to look back at Hugh while he waited to get more coffee, tapping a tune against the edge of the mug. He really needed to gain some courage. 

He couldn’t even remember the last time he sat in a cafe with someone and just talked. But before long, he had to turn back around to Hugh with his new cup of sugared-coffee.

He saw Hugh rubbing his neck as he slid into his seat. “Is your neck alright?” The perfect change of subject.

Hugh quickly pulled his hand away. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he said. “I just fell asleep on the counter last night, so--”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “The counter?” he asked, taking a sip of coffee. “That’s a strange place to sleep.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Hugh said with a laugh. “Ger got drunk last night and made a mess of the kitchen, so I had to clean up after him and...forgot to get back to bed.” 

Paul snorted. “Your roommate got drunk on a Tuesday night?” At least Straal never did that. Paul would kill him.

Hugh nodded as she took another bite of his burrito. “Ger makes some...questionable decisions sometimes. Well, okay, he does it a lot, but he’s still focused on his studies. Mostly.”

Paul took another sip. “It seems to me like that’s a contradiction.”

HUgh shrugged a shoulder. “Ger has that effect.” He glanced down at his PADD, a grimace crossing his face. “I should get going,” he said apologetically as he looked back up at Paul.

Paul wasn’t sure what to feel about the disappointment that curdled through his gut. He held his mug up to his lips, to disguise the frown that involuntarily took hold of his face. “Alright.”

“You could always come with me,” Hugh said, a teasing grin coming over his face as he stood up.

Paul snorted. “I’d rather not spend any more time in a class I could sleep through and pass with flying colors, but thank you for the offer.” 

“No problem,” Hugh said as he crumbled up his burrito wrapper. “The offer will probably stand for the rest of the semester.” He waved a goodbye to Paul as he started to walk away. “See you, Paul!”

Paul gave a slight nod. “Goodbye, Hugh.” He watched Hugh leave the cafe, and sat there for another 20 or so minutes, slowly sipping away at his coffee, trying to piece together his feelings.

✭✩✭

Each time they met, it seemed that Hugh was arriving earlier and earlier. Two weeks had passed, and with Paul’s work load picking up exponentially, the morning was the only time he ever had to spend with Hugh. 

He came home late at night on Friday, exhaustion seeping into his bones. “Straal, how are the specimens?” He called out as he chucked his bag onto the couch, unzipping his jacket.

“Incubating well!” Straal called out from their study. “I see Smith finally let you go.”

Paul groaned, rubbing his forehead to try and stave off the headache. “Don’t mention her name, just remembering her voice is giving me a migraine.”

“Thank Starfleet she likes you more than me. I couldn’t stand working with her. Anyway.” There was a banging noise and then Straal appeared in the doorway, a broad grin on his face. “Soooo, how about that promise you made me?”

Paul scowled. “Shut up.”

Straal snickered. “I’ll take that as a, ‘no Straal I chickened out and didn’t message Prince Charming.’”

“Fuck off. I’m taking a shower.” Paul dropped his jacket on the couch, going towards the bathroom.

He had a lot of work left to do, so his shower had to be quick. Just enough to maybe help his headache, and take the soreness out his muscles. He’d been awake for what, a solid 15 hours? Not that it was anything close to his record, but it still hurt his head. He stepped into the too hot water, closing his eyes.

He put on some clothes and came back into the living room, to see Straal sprawled across the couch with  _ his  _ PADD in his hands.

“What are you doing?!” Paul demanded, running over to him, trying to snatch the PADD back. 

Straal held a hand to Paul’s chest, keeping the PADD just out of reach. “We made a deal! You said you’d man up and finally ask him out by today. You didn’t, so I’m going it for you!” 

“Don’t you  _ dare,”  _ Paul seethed, gritting his teeth together. 

“I’m being a good roommate! Consider me your wingman. I’m scoring you the date.” Straal grinned broadly. “I’m halfway there already.”

That was the last straw. In a surge of desperation, Paul launched himself across Straal, crushing him, grabbing onto the PADD with the edges of his fingers and tugging it free.

“Stamets what the fuhmch--!” Straal’s voice became muffled as Paul crushed him against the couch cushions. He shoved Paul off, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud thump and groan. “Seriously?!”

Paul glared up at him. “How did you know my password?!” he demanded.

“It’s literally fucking Prototaxites stellaviatori, you’re not that subtle!” 

Paul got up to his feet, kicking Straal in the leg. “Fuck you. Let me be.” He looked at his PADD, turning away from Straal and starting to walk away, typing a reply to Hugh. He could see the previous messages and could feel embarrassment flush across his cheeks.

_ My apologies, Straal _

His foot was grabbed mid-stride, and he fell face first into the ground, hand smashing against the PADD.

“Oh no you don’t Stamets! I’m doing this if it’s the last thing I ever do!” Straal climbed over him and nicked the PADD out of his hands, quickly jumping away and typing a reply. 

Paul groaned. He was too fucking tired for this. He just wanted to go to sleep. He pushed himself up to his feet, feeling pain throb through his skull. He held a hand to the bridge of his nose while he stumbled over to Straal. “Just give it back already, please.” He said, nearly pleaded, hand once more reaching for the PADD.

“Just wait, I’ve almost got him. He sent me a winky face. Your man is such a player, wow. “ Straal was in the middle of typing something when Paul dragged it out of his hands, chucking it onto the couch for safety.

“Damnit, Stamets! I almost had it for you!” Straal went back to the couch, but Paul stuck out a leg and tripped him.

“I don’t need your help, I had it under control!” Paul snaps back. 

Straal stumbled, but ultimately didn’t fall. “You were never going to ask him out, you know i--wait, what’s your PADD doing?” Straal grabbed it off of the couch before Paul could get there. “Oh no, you turned on speech to text.” 

“Damnit Straal!” Paul cursed, reaching for it again. “Computer--”

“Hi Prince Charming,” Straal said with a grin as he pushed the send button. He danced away from Paul, that shit-eating grin still on his face. “I’ll give it back if you ask him ouuuut.”

“I don't even know where I would take him! Just give me back my PADD, don’t we have an experiment to run?”

“Take him to that one fancy restaurant downtown. The one you took your parents to last year. That’ll wow him.” 

Paul huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don't want to...scare him away.”

“Stamets, please. If he’s stuck with you for this long, he’s already hooked. You’re not going to be able to get rid of him. I’m giving this back to you. If you don’t have a date for tomorrow, I’m locking you out of the apartment.”

“It’s DNA-controlled, there’s no wa--”

“I’d find a way. Trust me,” Straal said as he held the PADD out to Paul.

Paul snatched it, glaring at Straal. Straal raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Just leave me alone,” Paul grumbled, turning and going to his room. “Computer, lock the door,” he said as he stepped into the bedroom.

“I expect a full report in the morning!” Straal shouted as the door slid shut.

Paul sat on the edge of his bed, looking through the horrifying list of messages that had been sent.  

_Hugh._  
_That’s my name. What’s up, Paul?_ _  
__Where were you? You’re usually home by 1500._ Right, that was the last time Paul _ever_ talked about Hugh around Straal.

_Sorry, I had to go to a lecture for some extra credit. Didn’t think it’d take so long._ _  
__Oh._  Paul wanted to say that this _didn’t_ sound like him, but in one way, it definitely could have been. That wasn’t even the worst part. 

_ Can I ask you something? _

_ Of course. _

This must have been when Paul finally realized what Straal was doing.

_ VFKW _

_ Joso _

_ N JXDKS S _

_ L _

_ ; KLLA _

_ My apologies, Straalbdneb.  _ He’s surprised Hugh even bothered to respond, honestly. 

_ Take your time. _

_Are you busy tomorrow night?_ _  
__Not a bit. Why? ;)_

_ Go on a date with me.  _ Straal had even typed  _ that. _ Honestly, what aspect of Paul’s life hadn’t Straal tried to fuck up? At this point he wanted to throw the PADD against the wall and give up, but he knew Straal would re-fucking-build it and continue the conversation himself.

_ I’d love to. But what’s the occasion, I wonder? _

_ The occasion is I libfmdd.  _ This is, of course, when Paul managed to throw the PADD on the couch, as the next long message sent by him foretold.

_ Dammit Stamets I almost had it for you. I don’t need your help, I had it in control. You were never going to ask him out, you know I. Wait what’s your PADD doing? Oh no you turned on speech-to-text. Dammit Straal, computer. Hi Prince charming. _

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could simply will his terrible migraine away. At this point, he figured it would be even worse to not say anything at all, especially since Straal already asked.

He tapped his fingers against the edge of the PADD before finally sending in a short message.

_ This is not how I wanted this conversation to go. _

_To whom am I speaking?_  
Paul’s cheeks turned red with embarrassment. _Stamets. I apologise. That won’t happen again._

_ And here I was having such a good time. Is that date still on the table? _

Paul gripped the edge of the PADD tightly, staring down at the message. An inkling in the back of his head told him that this was obvious, of course Hugh would want to go on a second date, but the rest of him was still processing the belief. He took a few too many moments typing back a reply.  _ Are you interested? _

Hugh’s reply was instantaneous.  _ Of course! Provided it’s with you, naturally. Straal’s not my type. _

Paul snorted, feeling some of the tension in his muscles go away.  _ It’s with me. _

_ Then yes, of course I’ll go. When and where? _

Paul bit the inside of his cheek, unable to stop a smile from creeping across his face.  _ Tomorrow at 1900? I can pick you up. _

_ Sounds great, I’ll see you tomorrow! :) _

Paul couldn’t help the smile that came across his face.  _ I’ll need your address. _

_ Oh! Duh! Building 2, room 204. _

Paul made a note of that before sending his final message.  _ Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hugh. _

He dropped his PADD beside him and lied back, staring up at the ceiling. He had a date. 

But he still had a lot of work before it. “Computer, set a 20 minute alarm.”

_ Understood.  _

Paul rolled onto his side, closing his eyes with a sigh. 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

 

After waking up, Paul spent the rest of the night, and next day, working on creating code for their new experiment. Straal was working beside him, analyzing the DNA of their sample. 

“Stamets, your PADD is buzzing.”

Paul rubbed his eyes, looking around for the PADD. “Where?”

“In the kitchen, you left it there an hour ago.”

Paul groaned, standing up and shuffling to the kitchen. He grabbed the PADD, checking the time: 1300. He had plenty of time still. He noticed Hugh sent him a message, and opened it.

_ So...can I ask what we’re doing?  _

Paul turned on the synthesizer, making a new pot of coffee as he typed a reply with his other hand.  _ It’s a surprise. Wear something nice. _

Hugh’s reply came immediately as Paul pulled the pot out.  _ Are you sure you’re ready for my finest tuxedo? _

Paul had a vision of Hugh in a tight fitting suit, and his cheeks flushed red. He was  _ not  _ ready for that. He poured two mugs of coffee, then replied.  _ Not that nice. _

Paul then took everything back to the study. He set a mug in front of Straal, who nodded in thanks, before collapsing into his chair. He didn’t get back up until Straal tapped him on the shoulder hours later, reminding him that he needed to get ready for his date with Hugh.

✭✩✭

Finally, at precisely 1859, Paul stood outside the door to Hugh’s room.  __ He fiddled with the edges of his sleeves, biting on the inside of his cheek.  _ Just stay calm.  _ Everything would be fine. He was wearing, ironically enough, the same thing he wore the last time he went to this restaurant; it was probably okay. When the time hit 1900 exactly, he knocked on the door. 

He didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds before Hugh opened the door. Paul’s mouth felt too dry as he stared at Hugh, time slowed down; Hugh was wearing a deep purple shirt that brought out the dark color of his skin so nicely, and made the sparkle in his eyes even more-

“Hello, Paul,” Hugh said, a broad smile on his face, laughter crinkling at the edges of it.

Paul was snapped out of his thoughts, looking up to Hugh’s face with a slight nod. “Hugh. What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Hugh said as he stepped through the door, letting it shut behind him. “I see great minds think alike.” He gestured between their two shirts.

Paul’s brow furrowed, glancing between the shirts and trying to find the correlation that Hugh was looking for. Oh, both were shades of purple. Was that an issue? He didn’t think he would have had to coordinate what color shirt to wear, but if that bothered Hugh... “If it bothers you, I can go change. I have plenty more.” 

Hugh shook his head, the too-bright smile still there. “I like it. You look great--and besides, this way, nobody will doubt who you’re with.”

Paul turned away to walk down the hall, rolling his eyes. “If you say so,” he muttered. It took him a moment, as Hugh fell into step behind him, for him to realize he should probably comment on Hugh’s appearance. “You look nice, too.”

“Thank you. Does that mean you’ll tell me where we’re going?” Hugh asked.

Paul tried to will the smile that rose to his lips back down. “No.”

“Aw, come on Paul,” Hugh whined, and Paul found the tone absolutely  _ adorable.  _ “Why not?”

Paul fought to keep his voice clipped and level; he couldn’t show weakness. “You insisted on keeping the secret during our first date. How could I do any less?”

“I at least gave you a hint,” Hugh protested.

Paul rolled his eyes. “Right before you showed me what we were doing,” he said as he increased his pace slightly, to beat Hugh to the door and open it for him. “It wasn’t that good of a hint anyway.”

“Hey!” Hugh laughed as he stepped outside. “You seemed to like it in the moment.”

Paul let the door fall shut, once again resuming his walk. “Of course. You know my thoughts on Starfleet. That doesn’t mean it was a good hint.”

“Okay, okay,” Hugh conceded. “Fine, it wasn’t a good hint. But it was still a hint.” 

Paul had to hold back a sigh as he looked at Hugh, scrutinizing him. “You won’t rest until I give in, will you?”

Hugh shook his head. “Nope,” but the smile still lingered on his mouth.

Paul rolled his eyes looking forward again. “Alright,” he mumbled, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t too obvious. He thought back to the hint that Hugh had given him, pursing his lips together before finally speaking. “It has nothing to do with mushrooms,” he finally supplied. A terrible hint for a terrible hint; it was fair.

“Seriously?” Hugh asked, sounding like he was about to laugh. “And you thought  _ my  _ hint was bad?”

“I’m only keeping it fair,” Paul protested mildly. “A bad hint begets a bad hint.”  
“Does this mean I get to skip out early on you, too, then?”

Paul felt the words like a punch to the gut, and it took all of his willpower to not stumble in his step and keep his expression relatively neutral, only the corners of his lips downturning. “I...apologise for that,” he began, trying to choose his words carefully. He did regret leaving Hugh early, but there had been so much he had to finish. “Our experiment was at critical juncture, and--”

“It’s fine,” Hugh quickly interrupted. His voice didn’t sound too angry. “I understand. I was just kidding, sorry. I won’t leave early. Unless one of us suddenly falls unconscious or something, in which case I would be obligated to get you to the hospital or...something.” Hugh interrupted himself with a cough, looking embarrassed. “Remember when I mentioned foot-in-the-mouth syndrome?”

Paul huffed, feeling slightly more at ease. “I do remember.”

“Right,” Hugh said, sounding like he was trying too hard to change the subject. “So, no mushrooms. It can’t be dinner, then, because some dishes have mushrooms.”  
_Fuck._ There was no going back from there. Paul couldn’t tell Hugh he was _wrong_ because that would obviously give it away. But now he was blatantly lying to keep up the illusion. Who considered mushrooms as a food anyway? They were used for science and experimentation, not eating. He keep his face painfully neutral. “...Right. Obviously.”

“And since we’re dressed nicely...are we going to a play? You hate music, so it can’t be the opera.”  
“I don’t hate music,” Paul immediately protested.

“Okay, then you hate  _ opera, _ ” Hugh corrected, finally smiling again. “My guess still stands.”

It would’ve been fun to watch Hugh be wrong, if it wasn’t because Paul himself had made a clue misjudgement. He hadn’t thought Hugh would actually  _ try  _ to figure it out. “You’ll see,” he said, continuing to stare straight ahead, seeing their destination at the corner. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost there? I don’t remember a theatre being near here,” Hugh said, a slight frown on his lips, like he was suddenly thinking too hard.

“Perhaps you need to rethink your analysis then,” Paul said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Well, maybe it’s--”

“Too late, we’re here.” Paul stopped in front of the restaurant. The building itself looked sleek and formal, rising two stories with windows that spanned from ceiling to floor, the interior full of sculptures of hanging glass and paintings from decades ago. In golden script above the door was  _ Lyron’s _ , the name of the place. 

“Wow,” Hugh said, looking over the building with wide eyes. “ _ This _ is the place you had in mind?”

Paul allowed a small smile to creep over his face. “Yes,” he said as he walked over to the door, watching it slide open in front of him. “Are you coming with me?”

Hugh nodded, quickly catching up to Paul’s side. “Yeah.”  
As the two walked inside, there seemed to be a crowd of people hanging around the front lobby, waiting to be seated presumably. Paul walked past all of them. The Andorian standing at the front counter smiled at him and inclined his head politely. “Mr. Stamets, welcome back. Shall I take you to your usual table?”

Paul shook his head. “One farther back, please. Where it’s quieter.” 

The Andorian nodded in acknowledgment. “Of course sir, right this way.” He picked up two menus and led the way upstairs and to the back of the restaurant, leaving them at a table for two. 

Paul gave a nod of thanks as he sat down in a seat, taking the offered menu with a hand and looking over at Hugh.

Hugh followed Paul’s lead, sitting down and taking a menu. But he looked like he was trying to settle on exactly what emotion to convey, a mix between awe at his surroundings, and trying too hard to play it cool.

“Shall I put it on your usual tab, Mr. Stamets?” the waiter asked.

Paul nodded. “Yes, that will be satisfactory.”

The waiter nodded. “I shall leave you to it then.” He walked away from the two of them.

Paul tapped his fingers against the edge of the menu, regarding Hugh closely. “This isn’t too much, is it?”

Hugh quickly shook his head. “No, no. This is great! I’m just surprised--in a good way. All good ways.”

Paul breathed out a quiet sigh of relief.  A sign of approval, that was good. “I wasn’t sure what sort of location to pick, but I hoped this would be to your liking.”

Hugh nodded. “It is,” he said. “I promise. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been anywhere this fancy.” He glanced over his menu, pressing his lips together. “...And expensive.”

Paul nodded, glancing over the menu. Really, he hadn’t even bothered to glance at the prices listed. Intergalactic currency exchange rates always tended to bore him. “As I said, I’ll just put everything on my tab, so don’t worry about the price.”

Hugh immediately looked relieved. “Thank you.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I’d make you pay for your own dinner?” 

“I mean, you never know,” Hugh said, with that beautiful smile. “I’ve been on plenty of bad dates.” He glanced down at the menu, suddenly frowning a smidge. “I mean, not plenty. And I never thought that you’d--” He shook his head, lifting up the menu to hide his face. Was he embarrassed? Cute. “So, um, you come here often?” 

Paul raised an eyebrow, amused. “You already have the date, Hugh. There’s no need to use a line.”

Hugh blinked. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said, laughing a little.  
“I know,” Paul said, unable to hold back a huff of laughter. “But I often come here on a yearly basis, with my parents. They own some stock in this particular chain of intergalactic restaurants, so….” Paul shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. He certainly wouldn’t mind sending a tab over to his parents. Hell, let Hugh order the whole damn menu.  
“Sheesh, I had no idea,” Hugh mumbled, glancing over the menu. “If you come here often, what do you suggest? No desserts.” He glanced up at Paul with a teasing grin.  
Paul snorted. “Desserts are the only thing worth ordering,” he said, flipping over to that page.  
“Somehow I doubt that,” Hugh said, not losing his smile as he looked over the menu some more. 

Paul couldn’t believe how easily familiar this already felt (granted, he thought that a lot, but it still surprised him every time), like he was falling into a rhythm with Hugh, and each conversation felt pleasantly familiar. “It’s true,” he said while pointing to an item on the menu, only belatedly realizing Hugh couldn't see what he was pointing at. “The crème brûlée is quite good.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Hugh said as he looked over the menu. “But if we order dessert right off the bat, our date will be over too soon, won’t it?”

Paul tapped his fingers against the edge of the menu, pointedly looking away from Hugh. Fine, they’d play it his way. He flipped back a page, scanning over the menu. He’d never bothered to really  _ read  _ the menu before, but frankly, there were far too many choices listed. 

He glanced up at Hugh for a moment, to see him also puzzling over the menu. At least it gave a brief moment of silence, which Paul was grateful for. The server poured them a glass of wine each, and Paul gave him a nod before looking over the menu again, a furrow in his brows. 

“Having trouble deciding?” Hugh asked, and Paul glanced back up at him. Hugh had already put his menu down, and it looked like he had decided.

“I hadn’t realized what a large variety there was,” he muttered as he glanced down the list of options again briefly. “What are you getting?”

“You’ll see,” Hugh said, his smile cryptic as he reached for his menu again. “I’ll help you, though. Are you allergic to anything?”

Paul blinked.  _ Allergic? _ He’d never thought of it before. Was he allergic to anything? “Probably not.”

“Probably not?” Hugh repeated, looking concerned. “You don’t know?”

“It’s never come up before,” Paul said with a shrug, looking back over the menu. He’d just choose something. “There’s no need to help me, though; I’ve just decided what to get.” He quickly closed his menu, setting it back down on the table.  
Hugh lifted a brow. “If you say so,” he said, putting his menu down as well.

Paul didn’t think this far ahead. Now he had to  _ talk.  _ He was terrible at that. Luckily, to spare him from the pain, the server came over again.

“Are you two ready to order?” 

Paul nodded, handing over his menu. “I’ll have the sea bass.” 

The grin on Hugh’s face was only growing as he ordered. “I’d like the Stamets risotto, thank you.”

Paul immediately choked on the water he was drinking, setting the glass down as he started coughing. Hugh started to stand up, but Paul quickly waved him down. “The  _ what?!” _ he managed to sputter out in between coughs. 

The server looked concerned, glancing between Paul and Hugh. “Is...there a problem sir?”

Paul tried to quickly regain his composure, breathing out a sigh before focusing his sharp gaze on the server. “Is that a real dish?”

The server nodded, smiling once again. “The Stamets risotto is a mushroom risotto named after one of Lyron’s principle investors. It wasn’t added to the menu until a few weeks ago.”

Paul could feel a headache building up behind his eyes. Of course it was a  _ mushroom _ risotto; Mother would get a kick out of that one. “I need to come here more often,” he grumbled to himself, before nodding to the server. “Thank you, that will be all.”

The server wrote everything down, smiling uncertainly again before leaving, probably grateful to be out of the situation.

Once the server had left, Hugh spoke again. “Are you alright? I wasn’t trying to kill you, I hope you know.”

Paul could feel horrible embarrassment building inside of him. He picked up his glass of water, trying to fight the rising blush on his cheeks. “I was just...surprised. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have brought us here.”

“That would’ve been a shame. Then I wouldn’t have been able to order it,” Hugh said, a teasing grin on his lips.

Paul took a sip of the water, snorting. “Why  _ did  _ you order it?” He coughed again, his voice still off. “I can’t imagine your first choice was a simple mushroom risotto.” 

Hugh shrugged. “It’s not every day that your date has a dish named after him.” Hugh’s grin seemed to grow impossibly larger. “It would’ve been wrong to not capitalize on it.” 

Paul snorted. “With that kind of thinking, you may get stuck with a dish you hate.”

“What’s not to like about mushrooms?” Hugh asked. “I’m sure I’ll like it just fine. And if I don’t I can just steal from your plate.” 

“Ah, so that’s why you wanted me to avoid a dessert. So you had a back up plan.” Paul shook his head as he picked up the glass of wine and took a sip from it.

“No,” Hugh said, “I did that because I care about you and you eat too many sugary foods.”

Paul looked insulted. “You’ve known me for hardly a month, how can you make any assumptions about my diet?”

“I’ve seen how you take your coffee, plus your time in the hospital only seems to agree with me.” 

Paul scoffed. “An isolated incident.”

“So you’re telling me that you  _ do  _ eat healthy outside of your coffee choices?”

Paul hesitated, tapping his fingers against the table before nodding. “Yes. I do.”  
Hugh rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.” 

Paul bristled. “I am not!” 

“No, you definitely are,” Hugh said with a shake of his head. 

Paul couldn’t manage to be too angry at him though. There was a smile in Hugh’s eyes that made him feel giddy inside, and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral. “I suppose you always eat healthy then, Dr. Culber?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not always, but I also work out daily so, it tends to even out.” Hugh grinned again, picking up his glass of water. “The offer to join me is always available,” he said before taking a sip.

“It’s never going to happen. I suggest you give up now.” 

Hugh shrugged. “A man can always dream.”

“I do hope you don’t dream of convincing me to wake up at 6 in the morning to go jogging.”

“Well, you have class around then, so of course not. But I could always change my routine to afternoons, if that would help persuade you.” 

Paul looked over the muscles that Hugh had. He would die, in more ways than one, if he tried to work out next to him. His gaze quickly snapped back up to Hugh’s face. “I’m afraid my afternoons are full. I’m busy with work late into the night each day.”

He could see the grin grow on Hugh’s face, and realized he was probably caught in the act.  _ Fuck. _ Just play it cool. 

“And you still made time for me,” Hugh said. “I’m touched. Maybe our next date can be a nice, romantic jog through the park.”  
Paul snorted. “I don’t think you’d want me to fall over dead on our third date. It’d be anticlimactic. Also,” he raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out on another date before this one is even finished? You could learn to hate me in the next few hours, so you shouldn’t be so hasty.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Hugh replied. “If I wasn’t run off by our first meeting, why would I be run off now? I like you, Paul. And besides, I like being optimistic.” He paused to take a sip from his glass. “If you don’t want to go on another date, you can always say no.”

Paul felt a surge of panic hit him like a lightning bolt. “No, no,” he quickly said (maybe too quickly). “I...definitely would like to go on another date with you. Just, preferably one that doesn’t involve running. Besides,” he tapped his fingers against the edge of his glass of water. “You don’t know enough about me to decide whether or not you should run away. My personality is layered, you know, like an onion.” 

“I like onions,” Hugh said immediately, and Paul nearly laughed out loud. “I mean--tell me about yourself then. What layer haven’t I seen yet?”

Paul blinked, not quite sure how to reply. He settled on shrugging, taking a sip of wine before continuing. “You can’t simply ask an onion how many layers it has. It’s too complicated for that.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t, then. Ideally, I’ll get to see all of them with time--but I’d like to hear about one you haven’t shown me.” He paused to take a sip of water. “I haven’t seen you at work.”

_ All of them? With time?  _ Paul didn’t want to consider the implications of that, and shoved it to the back of his mind. He tapped his fingers against the edge of his wine glass, to an old tune from centuries ago. He pursed his lips, trying to think of what to say. “When I’m at work, I...am very focused on my job. I doubt you’d approve of it. I usually get lost in all of it. The passage of time, as arbitrary as it is, becomes meaningless.”

“I can appreciate diligence,” Hugh began, and Paul could  _ feel  _ the lecture in his tone. “But not at the cost of health. Unfortunately for you, that just makes me want to help you more.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “I’m at the peak of physical health, thank you. I doubt there’s anything you could help me with.” Paul thought back to the last time he slept, trying to count how many hours it’d been since then; at least 24, since he’d been writing the report all last night. Best to keep that a secret. 

Hugh burst into laughter, then quickly covered his mouth; but his hand couldn’t hold back the loud snort that followed. “Sorry,” Hugh said, and Paul couldn’t stop the grin that came over his own face for a moment. He nearly told Hugh to not worry about it before he continued. “When we met, you were so powered by caffeine that you were shaking. That’s not the peak of physical health, dear.”

The tips of Paul’s ears turned red at the term of endearment, his carefully planned quip dying on his lips. He sputtered for a moment as he tried to regain his composure. “Well, like I said before, it was an isolated incident and you have no way of proving if that is something that commonly occurs.”

“I could call Straal and ask, or ask to hold your hand,” Hugh said, and it took Paul a moment longer than he cared to admit to keep his neutral expression still there. “And besides, you seemed to be going through withdrawls in the hospital. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Paul huffed. “Well I  _ was  _ in a medical coma for three days. That’s obviously going to affect anyone negatively.” He picked up his glass for another sip, muttering, “damn doctors,” under his breath.

“I think that proves my point then,” Hugh said, his smile growing. “You can’t be at peak physical health because you nearly died recently.” After saying that, Hugh’s smile faded away, looking more serious.

“Please, it was hardly the worst situation I’ve been in. I’ve obviously recovered fully, and there’s no further adverse side effects.” Paul shrugged his shoulders.

In that moment, the server came over with their food, setting the two plates down in front of them. “The sea bass and Stamets risotto.”

Hearing the name of that accursed dish made Paul feel embarrassment wash over him again. He sent the server a thin, cold smile. “Thank you.”

Paul assumed he would feel grateful for the chance to finally avoid conversation, but he actually felt disappointed that the conversation was halted as he picked up his fork. What sort of socialite monster was he turning into?

Hugh, however, didn’t seem to think getting the food was the end of the conversation. “You know, it doesn’t look much like you,” he said, looking up at Paul with a teasing smile. “You’re much more handsome.”

Paul paused with a piece of sea bass halfway to his mouth. He looked between the risotto and Hugh, raising an eyebrow. “I would hope so, since I’m not a pile of mushroom rice.”

Hugh laughed as he picked up a pile of risotto on his fork. “I have to take whatever chances I can get here, cut me some slack.”

Paul frowned, chewing through his piece of decent, slightly overdone, piece of bass before speaking. “Chances with what?” he asked, his brows furrowing together. 

Hugh took a bite of his risotto before replying. “With complimenting you, of course. I mean, I’d shower you in them in you  _ really  _ wanted me to, but I prefer working them into normal conversation. Or, uhm, somewhat normal conversation.”

Paul’s cheeks turned pink as he picked up another piece of bass. “Oh,” was all he managed to say at first. Did Hugh really  _ want  _ to compliment him that often? What was there to even say about him? Should he be trying to compliment Hugh more? Was he doing something wrong? It’s not as if he had the slightest idea of what to say, there was the definite possibility of doing everything wrong. What if-

“Of course, if you’re uncomfortable with it, I can stop. You deserve to hear nice things but if you don’t want to hear them--or me to say them--then I can...stop,” Hugh said.

Paul shook his head, fingers that weren’t holding the fork tapping rapidly against the wood of the table. “No, no, I...am unused to it. To...all of this. My apologies.”

“Oh! There’s no need to apologise.” Hugh gave Paul a sheepish grin, and he could feel the knots his intestines had turned themselves into slowly unravel. “I can’t claim to be the most professional guy in this department either. But if anything I do or say makes you uncomfortable, you’ll let me know, right?”

Paul looked down to his plate, picking up another piece of bass before speaking, an excuse to wait. “Yes, of course.” He didn’t look back up at Hugh until after he finished speaking. He took another bite, waiting a few moments before speaking again. “How have your classes been going? We’re a few weeks in, so something must have picked up by now, yes?” 

Hugh shrugged, accepting the subject change. “Well enough. The anatomy lab is brutal, but spending 4 hours every Thursday in a single lab can do that to you.”

Paul nodded. “What about that...what was it, Bio 434?”

Hugh sighed. “Yeah, Environmental Physiology; easily one of the hardest I've had at the Academy. What about your classes, Paul? How are your professors?”

“They're all idiots,” Paul stated bluntly. “They can pretend and blather about all they like, but working here has obviously made them complacent.” 

“What are they doing?”

Paul waved his fork around to emphasize his words. “Well, to start off with, Smith is constantly belittling me. Just yesterday, she asked me if I knew how to turn the blood analyzer on. Who does she think she is? I have a degree in Biochemistry, I know how to turn a machine on. Then of course, there’s Heimbrack, who can’t seem to grasp the concept that both Straal and I know more about mycology than he ever could, and there’s barely 15 students in the class total. Honestly I should be teaching it at this point.” 

Hugh nodded, sympathy clear through the small frown he had. “I understand what you mean, but I’m sure that teaching wasn’t their first choice in profession either. Imagine if  _ you _ had to teach after graduating in the Academy.”

Paul pursed his lips, somewhat conceding the point. “I suppose. I’ve seen what the first years here are like, and I have no wish to speak to anyone with that sort of mentality again.” 

“Exactly. So imagine how those professors must feel,” Hugh said as he scooped up the last bit of his risotto.

Paul scoffed. “They should still recognize genius when they see it.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I hear a lot of academic types are too busy admiring themselves to really notice other people,” Hugh said with a teasing tone.

“Exactly, I say-” Paul paused, eyebrows furrowing for a moment. “...I see what you did there. Haha, clever.” 

Hugh grinned broadly. “Thanks, I try.” 

Before Paul had a chance to reply, the server stepped up. “Is everything to your liking?”

Hugh nodded, “It’s excellent, thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the server said with a smile. “Would you two care for dessert?”

Paul immediately nodded. “Yes, I believe the,” he paused for a split second to glance at Hugh, “crème brûlée would be a good choice.”

“Would you like just one order of that?” The server asked as he glanced at Hugh.

Hugh shook his head, lifting up his hand slightly. “Just one will be fine. That risotto was very filling.”

“Of course, sirs,” the server said as he stepped away. “I will return shortly, then.”

Paul raised an eyebrow at Hugh. “You can’t tell me you’re  _ not  _ going to try some of the crème brûlée here. I’ve heard it’s the best on Earth.”

“I never said that. I’ll just steal some of yours. Unless you’re opposed, of course,” Hugh said.

Paul pursed his lips, looking Hugh over. “I...suppose you could. Are you sure you’ll be able to handle something with sugar in it?”

Hugh’s eyes widened as he leaned forward over the table, voice lowering. “Do you mean to tell me it’s not an actual healthy dessert? How could you fool me like that, Paul?” But the smile, just barely there, gave away his jest.

Paul raised an eyebrow, keeping a straight deadpan. “I regret to inform you that most desserts tend to be not healthy. You’ll simply have to get used to it; especially around me.”

Hugh leaned back into his seat, sighing. “Well, if all I have to sacrifice is my 100-percent-vegetable diet to hang out with you, then that’s a fair trade.”

Paul took a sip of water before replying. “I might be wrong, but I do believe one must consume at least a fruit or two to live. Living off of only vegetables seems highly improbable.”

The smile on Hugh’s face widened, and Paul had to work to keep his face neutral. He’d never known someone with such an infectious smile. “Oops, you caught me. Surprise, I’m a ghost, here to haunt you and give you various health-related tips.”

“Surprising indeed, since ghosts don’t exist, and if they did, I doubt they’d take a form capable of physical action.”

Hugh shrugged as he took a sip of water. “Well, the guys upstairs said that you’d need a more hands-on approach. Don’t pretend you’re not grateful.”  
Paul snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’ll be waiting quite a while to hear the words ‘I’m grateful’ come from me.”

“Well,” another smile beamed across Hugh’s face, “you  _ did  _ just say them, so. Not that long.”

Paul scoffed. “Context always matters. That hardly counted.”

“It counted,” Hugh protested. “And besides, I don’t need to  _ hear  _ it to know you mean it.”

“Well,” Paul began, trying to conjure up something in reply, his index finger tapping against the edge of his water glass. “Reading between the lines will only go so far. There’s no way to know if what you think is true or not.”

“I like to think I’m good at reading people,” Hugh said. “But you could always tell me. That option isn’t ever ruled out.” He winked at Paul.

Paul huffed, picking up the glass and taking a sip of water. “Just what I need, someone who can read through the different versions of zero-expression I wear.” He paused for a moment, looking away from the water to focus back on Hugh. “That was sarcasm.”

“I know,” Hugh laughed. “I’m getting better at it. It’ll take some time, but soon I’ll know you as well as Straal does.”

“Please, I doubt you’d want to. Straal has seen me naked before, and that’s not a night I ever wish to repeat.” He paused for a beat, then seemed to register exactly what he said, cheeks turning red. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like,” he gestured vaguely with one hand, trying in vain to save himself. “I just, meant, you know…” This was it, the end of his life.

Hugh looked like he was trying very hard to keep his laugh in check (which Paul was grateful for). “We can save that discussion for when we’re both ready for it.”

Thankfully, before Paul could try to reply, the server reappeared with the crème brûlée. “Here you are sir,” he said with a smile as he placed it in front of Paul. “Will that be all?”

Paul nodded. “Yes, thank you.” As the server nodded, turning and walking away, Paul picked up a spoon, breaking the layer of caramel over the crème brûlée and taking a decent piece of the custard below, popping it into his mouth. Saved from having to speak again.

“Sheesh, save some for me,” Hugh laughed as he picked up a spoon. He leaned over the table, taking a small bit from the side before falling back to his seat.

Paul shrugged. “It’s a dessert for one, what did you expect? We could’ve gotten two.”

“Two would’ve been too much,” Hugh said with a shrug after he pulled the spoon out of his mouth. “I just didn’t expect you to take half the dish in one bite.”

Paul huffed. “That’s an exaggeration. There’s more than half of it left. You just can’t see it from your angle.” He took another large piece of it out of the dish.

“I see you’re a mushroom genius as well as an excavation king,” Hugh said, leaning forward to take another small piece. “This is very good, though; you were right.”

“Of course I was right,” Paul said flippantly. “I’m always right.”

Hugh gave a huff of laughter around his bite of crème brûlée. “I’m sure you are, dear.”

Paul froze halfway to his next scoop, looking at Hugh with a slight furrow in his brows. He couldn’t find a way to speak with...something clawing its way up his throat. He settled for only nodding, hoping the expression looked natural, as he took another piece of the dessert, using that as his excuse to say nothing while his left hand tapped out an old classical tune on the side of the table.

He looked to the dessert again, only to see the last bit of it disappear onto Hugh’s spoon. Paul blinked, looking between him and the now empty dish. “Well, I suppose that settles it.”

“Settles what?” Hugh asked too innocently, putting his spoon on the plate.

Paul pointed at the empty dish with his spoon. “It’s gone. You stole the last of it.”

“Oh, really?” Hugh asked, trying to erase his smile. “I thought I couldn’t see the rest from my angle.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, staring over at Hugh. “That’s why I told you. Now, you know.”

Hugh shrugged. “Oops,” he said, still trying to be innocent. “I guess now we’ll have to go on a third date so I can make it up to you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really go on dates with thieves,” Paul said, leaning back into his seat. Or, really, it’s not like he went on dates at all.

“It was for a good cause,” Hugh protested.

“And what cause is that?” Paul asked as he raised an eyebrow.  
“The cause of my stomach,” Hugh said. “It liked the crème brûlée too much, unfortunately.”

“Well, I suppose you will in fact have to make it up to me later.” He paused to glance around the restaurant. “And, I believe it’s time for us to leave. Unless you want to stay and order another.”

“It’s a tempting offer,” Hugh said as he shook his head, “but I’d rather owe you one for a little bit.” Hugh stood up, straightening out his sleeves and looking over his outfit.

Paul followed, standing up and pushing the chair in. “Most would consider owing someone something a bad thing, you know.”

“Since it’s you, I don’t mind as much. And it guarantees a nice date, so what’s there to worry about?”

Paul started to walk out of the restaurant, shaking his head. “I don’t know if ‘guarantee’ is quite the word I would choose to use.”

“Then what word would you use, Mister Thesaurus?” Hugh asked. 

Paul glanced over at him, his lips drawn into a fine line before he spoke. “I would say it has no effect of the probability of the outcome.”

Hugh met his gaze, and Paul immediately looked away. “And why’s that, I wonder?”

“What makes you so sure it would make it favourable?” Paul countered. As they walked past the front lobby, the server at the front thanked Paul for coming; Paul merely nodded in reply. 

“Well, spending any time with you is a plus, and I’ll have to spend time with you to atone for stealing the last bite,” Hugh reasoned.

Paul pursed his lips, thinking. “That does not guarantee the time spent would be worthwhile. Something can always go terribly wrong.” He pushed his hands into his pockets, trying to save them from the cold night’s wind. 

Hugh held his hand out to Paul. “Would you rather steal some of my heat instead? It’s free.”

Paul looked at Hugh’s hand in surprise, eyebrows raising a fraction. He debated what to do for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. There was nothing to lose, right? It was dark enough outside, even with the streetlights, that they weren’t easily seen. No one would notice. After another brief moment of hesitation, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and slid it into Hugh’s warm hand. “Well, I suppose if it’s free, I might as well,” he said as he looked across the street, unable to look at Hugh.

Their fingers wove together, and Paul realized in this moment that Hugh’s hand was larger than his. Hugh was rubbing his thumb gently against the back of Paul’s hand, and it caused all of Paul’s thoughts to spiral away, lost in the giddy feeling that was bubbling through his chest. The cold that was fighting him moments ago melted away. It took him a moment to realize Hugh was speaking, and he only caught the tail end of what he said. 

“...investment to me,” Hugh said, and was smiling broadly when Paul finally looked back at him.

“...Right,” Paul said, giving a slight nod, pretending like he heard. “Oh, where exactly are we going?”

Hugh blinked, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “I’m...not sure,” he said with a laugh. “I was following you.”

“Oh,” Paul said, looking down the street to gain his bearings. “Well, it’s late in the night. As someone who wakes up at 6 in the morning, I’m sure you need to sleep. I can walk you back to your dorm.” 

“I don’t know if I can wait until our next date to see you again,” Hugh said with a dramatic sigh.

Paul rolled his eyes. “Lucky for you, you only have to wait until Monday,” he said dryly.

“I  _ guess  _ that’ll do,” Hugh said.

There was silence for a few moments as they walked side by side, almost too close at times, bumping into each other. It was an amicable silence, and Paul felt relaxation seep into him. The lights of the city were coming to life around them, as the sun disappeared and the night life awoke. 

“So...Paul,” Hugh began, his tone forced and awkward. It pulled Paul away from his thoughts, made him frown as he looked over at Hugh. “I was...thinking. I like going out with you--and I hope you do, too. Uh, like going out with me, I mean.” 

Paul looked over Hugh carefully, eyes analytically searching his face for answers, a clue into what Hugh meant. “I do,” he said carefully, “Where are you going with this?”

“Well,” Hugh’s voice was slow, choked with uncertainty. “I was wondering--and you don’t have to give me an answer right away, you can take all the time you want,” he paused for a second, meeting Paul’s startled gaze, “But, uhm, I was wondering if you’d like to put a more permanent title on...this.” He wiggled their clasped hands a bit. “Going steady, or being boyfriends, or what have you.”

Paul stopped, feet frozen into the ground while he stared at Hugh. Thoughts jumbled about in his head as he tried to think of what to say. Was that what he wanted? The last relationship he’d been in hadn’t been exactly spectacular, but it had been a few years ago. When was the last time Paul found someone who wanted to talk to him, let alone  _ date  _ him? The idea of having a boyfriend never crossed his mind. Would it affect his work? He hardly had time for everything as it was, it would hardly be fair to Hugh to subjugate him to that. 

He wished he could create a formulated spreadsheet of pros and cons, telling him what the right answer was. (But he  _ knew  _ what the right answer was, he just couldn’t bring the words to his tongue.) Paul realized that Hugh said he could wait, but when he knew his answer but just couldn’t say it, he felt it wasn’t fair. 

“Is that,” he finally forced words out, slowed through his throat like molasses, “what you want?”   
Hugh laughed slightly, breaking eye contact with Paul. “Well, I wouldn’t have asked it if it wasn’t,” he said, before looking back to meet Paul’s eyes. Sincerity was flowing off of him, in the small smile on his lips, in the way his thumb was still gently rubbing against the back of Paul’s hand, in the slightly worried crinkle in the corner of his eyes. “But--that shouldn’t have any impact on your answer. Like I said, take your time--I encourage it--or say no. Whatever you want.”

It took Paul a long moment to find his voice. He planned his words carefully, or as carefully as he could when he could hardly think. “I must admit, I believe I knew my answer the moment you sat down in front of me in the cafe.” A simple smile came over Paul’s face. “Being...officially together does sound nice.”

“Great,” Hugh said with a relieved laugh, “I’m--glad to hear it. So glad.” He smiled broadly. “Then we’re boyfriends. I like the sound of that.”

Paul’s smile mostly disappeared, only a thin trace of it left on his face. “Me too. But,” he paused for a moment, shifting his weight between his feet. “It  _ is  _ rather cold. Perhaps we should...continue on?” 

“Good idea,” Hugh laughed, gently tugging Paul back to a walk. “We can't have you freezing to death on day one.”

Paul almost stumbled, catching his balance before he could make a fool of himself. “Please, it’s hardly cold enough to cause hypothermia, let alone death.”

“I guess we don’t have any reason to keep holding hands then,” Hugh said, slowly releasing Paul’s hand. “I--”

Paul tightened his grip on Hugh’s hand, not letting him go. “Stop being so insufferable,” he grumbled. “You know what I meant.”

“Didn’t you say earlier that you didn’t want me to read between the lines?” Hugh teased. “I’m starting to get mixed messages here, Paul.”

“I believe I may have agreed to this a little too hastily,” Paul said, looking back up at Hugh grimly. “I didn’t realize how much you’d start to tease me.”

Hugh giggled (fuck, it was a cute sound), and started rubbing his thumb against Paul’s hand again, scattering away his ‘remorseful’ thoughts. “Okay, okay,” Hugh conceded. “I’ll stop. For tonight, anyway; Monday, though, will be fair game.”

Paul huffed. “I knew saying yes to a thief would be a bad idea.”

“Hey,” Hugh protested, “I’m not the only thief in this relationship.”

“Oh?” Paul asked, raising his eyebrow as they arrived at the dorms. He stepped forward and pulled the door open with his free hand. “How am  _ I  _ a thief, then?”

Hugh stepped into the dorm, grinning back at Paul. “You stole my heart,” he said in a singsong voice.

Paul immediately scoffed, letting the door fall shut behind them as they continued down the hall. “You’ve gone mad with power, I see.”

“Well, I  _ am  _ crazy for you,” Hugh said. When Paul snorted, Hugh snickered but finally relented. “Okay, sorry, I’ll stop.”

They continued down the hall in a peaceful silence, until another cadet appeared around the end of the corner. Paul frowned, eying the cadet distastefully as he quickly pulled his hand away from Hugh’s, straightening his posture. The cadet passed by them without looking at them, but Paul realized how...public, the dorms here were, and didn’t want any adverse rumours to spread about Hugh. 

Soon enough, too soon in Paul’s opinion, they ended up at Hugh’s door. Hugh turned to face him, a gentle smile on his face. “I had a great time tonight, Paul. Thank you.”

Paul mirrored Hugh’s smile with a thin one, fingers toying with the button on the cuff of his sleeve. “I also enjoyed myself.”

Hugh was silent for a beat, before he looked out across the hallway, then stepped closer towards Paul. Hugh gently took his hand, raising it up slowly to place a kiss on one of Paul’s knuckles. But before he could, Paul quickly pulled his hand away, gaze flickering to look down the hallway. 

Paul took a few, quick steps away from Hugh. “G-Goodnight, Hugh. I-it was a pleasure, to spend the night with you.” He quickly turned around and walked away. 

Hugh said nothing as Paul disappeared and rounded the corner, which a small part of him regretted, but most of him was grateful. His 36+ hours of no sleep were catching up to him, and he could feel exhaustion in his every step, even if there was a buzz of energy in his head.

He felt like he was in a haze as he walked back to his apartment, weaving through the buildings without watching where he was really going. When he got back home, he stepped in through the door with a deep sigh, ready to fall asleep.

But Paul knew he’d be getting no sleep for  _ hours _ . He waited a whole three seconds before Straal appeared in the living room.

“Stamets! You’re back!”

Paul sighed again, unbuttoning the cuffs on his sleeves. “Yes, I am. Astute observation, Straal.”

“How’d it go? I’d say you’re back early, but that’s not surprising for you.” Straal plopped onto the couch, patting the open space beside him.

Paul gave him a withering glance, but ultimately accepted his fate and sunk into the couch. “It went fine.”

“Fine? Just fine? What does that even  _ mean? _ ” Straal threw his hands in the air. “You’re useless.”

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you every detail of the date I just went on,” Paul scoffed. “You don’t need to know what I do.”

“Oh really? I bet you I can call Culber and he’ll tell me everything. Do you want me to ask him? I have his number. I stole it from your PADD.”

Paul’s eyebrows furrowed together. “You stole his number from my PADD?”

“Yes, of course. What if he kidnapped you? I had to be able to track him. From the number I can track the PADD.”

“You wanted his number...to track him if he kidnapped me?” Paul pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not quite sure that’s the actual, real reason.”

“Yeah I just really need some good blackmail material, honestly. Anyway, tell me. Are you two  _ finally  _ a thing? I’ve seen the way he looks at you, it’s pining at its finest.”

Paul scoffed. “I doubt that, but...yes. We’re officially together.” 

“Finally!” Straal exclaimed, throwing both hands up. “We need to throw a party to celebrate! I’ll call everyone I know, starting with Culber!” 

“Please, do not,” Paul sighed. “I’m exhausted, I just want to sleep. I took him to Lyron’s like you said, it went fine, everything was fine. What more do you want?”

“Really, I think that’s the best I’m going to get with you. For now. I’ve planted a listening bug in the mushrooms, so when you tell them all your dirty secrets I’ll finally be able to know too.”

Paul shoved him, standing up. “I do  _ not  _ talk to the mushrooms.”

“Okay, okay.” Straal said, holding up his hands placatingly. “You keep telling yourself that.” 

Paul walked towards his bedroom. “Goodnight, Straal.”

“Goodnight, lover boy!”

Paul shut the bedroom door behind him with a sigh, closing his eyes. It took actual effort to open them again, and he barely managed to get his shirt and pants off before collapsing into the bed. He could see his PADD was blinking with a message though, and he reluctantly reached an arm out, grabbing onto it and pulling it over.

_ Hey, sorry about what I did in front of my dorm! I was just too excited, I didn’t mean to freak you out. Please don’t hate me :(. _

Paul winced as he read the message, rubbing his forehead to stave off a headache the bright light was giving him. “Computer, lights off,” he mumbled, reducing the brightness of the PADD to try and save his headache.

Perfect, Hugh hated him. What a great way to end the night. He wasn’t sure how to reply at all, but he didn’t know if he could wait until morning to reply. Would that be too long? What time was it even? It wasn’t that late, really, so it’d be best to reply now. He tapped his fingers against the edge of the PADD, spending the next half hour trying to carefully word his reply.

_ There’s no need to worry. I apologise for overreacting. I could never hate you, Hugh.  _

Paul hit the send button before he could second guess himself, sighing. He set the PADD down, determined to not worry about what could be on it and finally get some sleep. He rolled onto his side, mumbling for the computer to turn off his usual alarm. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Paul woke up sometime around 3pm, groaning into his pillow. He felt awful,  groggy, his eyes unwilling to open. “Computer, lights to 50%,” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his head. He knew he had something he needed to do tomorrow. “Computer, read me my to-do list.”

_ History of Mycology paper: due tomorrow. _

_ Send samples from E-45 to Professor Kaul. _

_ Choose Xenobiological project by next Monday. _

_ Begin drafting new report to send to Starfleet for research. _

The paper, right. He needed to work on it. He sighed before slowly getting out of bed, getting dressed. He grabbed his PADD--but refused to look at the messages--before heading over to the study, breathing in the earthy scent of the potted mushrooms. He sunk into the chair, closing his eyes for a brief moment with a sigh. 

“Computer, set alarm for 0630.” 

_ Understood, Cadet Stamets. _

Paul turned on the computer’s display, opening up a blank document. He had 15 hours, that was plenty of time to write a 10 page paper. He got to work, relaxing into the steady rhythm that came with working on a project. Soon enough, pages of holographic articles were floating around him. 

“I still don’t understand what’s so fascinating about the 21st century,” Paul muttered, rubbing his eyes. “What about it makes professors so drawn to it? At least there’s enough about it to bullshit a paper.” He looked over another article about genetic experiments run in 2054, taking it and adding it to his list of references. 

There was a slam from the living room, jolting Paul out of his concentration. 

He frowned at page 11 of his report before sighing and standing up, walking out to find Straal sprawled across the floor. “What is wrong with you?”  
Straal laughed, rolling over. “Holy _shit_ man. I feel great.”

“We have class in 5 hours, and you’re high as a kite.” Paul sighed, bending down to try and grab Straal by the arm.

Straal breezily knocked his hand away. “I’m good, I’m great, don’t even worry about it. I never thought about it before, but we? Should definitely paint our ceiling purple.” 

Paul rolled his eyes. “Did you do your history paper? I’m not writing one for you.”

“Hah, I did it Wednesday, suckerrr. Help me up. I wanna stare at the mushrooms for the next few hours.”  Straal held a swaying hand up to Paul.

Paul eyed the hand distastefully. “If you so much as make a sound to break my concentration, I will kill you.”

Straal grinned. “You can’t kill me, I’m your only friend.”

“Good point.” Paul grabbed Straal’s hand and hauled him up to his feet. 

Straal patted his shoulder. “You’ll always need me, I’m the only other mushroom guy you know. Where are the babies?” He turned towards the study, grinning as he stepped inside. “There they aaaare! My beautiful children.” He picked up one of the plants, plopping into his chair while holding it.

“I’m going to kill you tomorrow,” Paul muttered, settling back into his chair. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep at all now. He had to watch Straal to make sure he didn’t accidentally get himself killed. “Look, Straal, you should-”

“Wait, I can use the synthesizer to make  _ anything.  _ Why didn’t I think of this before?” Straal sprang to his feet, still carrying the potted mushroom with him. 

“Do  _ not  _ touch that synthesizer!” Paul stood up, following after him. 

“What do you think, Paul? One burrito or seven burritos?”

“I think you need to sleep,” Paul said, trying to grab onto Straal’s arm.

Straal easily danced out of the way, ending up besides the synthesizer. “Computer, make meeeeee….eight burritos, with all the stuff. Thanks.”

“And a pot of coffee,” Paul said, leaning against the counter as he watched Straal walk around the apartment, pick things up, nod, and then put them back down as they both waited for the synthesizer to work. “You won’t be able to eat eight burritos, Straal.”

“I’m saving some for later. Think ahead of the game Paul.” The synthesizer dinged and Straal rushed back over, grabbing a burrito out of it eagerly. He immediately dug into it. “De-fucking-licious.”

Paul reached for the pot of coffee, pouring himself a cup. “You’re lucky I don’t care about about things like blackmail, or else you’d be more trouble than you care to admit.” He stirred in sugar, watching Straal.

“You could literally send this to my parents and they wouldn’t care I’m still second--thanks for taking first, asshole--in the graduating class.” Straal took another massive bite of burrito.

“You got a B in Quantum Analysis II, that’s not my fault,” Paul said flippantly, taking a gulp of his just-right coffee. 

Straal gathered the rest of the burritos into his arms, moving over to the couch. “Computer, open display. Let’s uhhhhhh, binge some shit.” He plopped onto the couch, sitting cross legged and cradling his potted mushroom in the crook of one arm, putting the rest of the warm burritos in his lap. 

Paul went over to the couch, sitting on the far opposite side of it--it was made for two people, so really, he was too close to Straal for comfort-- and holding his cup of coffee like a lifeline. “And what exactly are we going to watch?”

“Old but gold - the classics. Computer, play the BEST hit from 2001.”

Paul closed his eyes, wishing he was dead. “Straal, don’t do this.”

_ Understood, Cadet Straal. Playing - Shrek.  _

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. It went on like this for several hours. Straal insisted on watching the entire ‘Shrek’ saga, eating all eight of his burritos, and cried at least 5 times during the course of the night. Paul’s coffee consumption rose exponentially as the morning grew closer and closer, to try and stave off his worsening headache, but it was impossible. Straal fell asleep around 5, and Paul finished the last two pages of his paper in that next hour and a half, before waking Straal up and dragging his ass all the way to class.

On the list of shitty days Paul was having, this already topped the charts for the semester. At least his paper was successful. He turned it in with no trouble, and Heimbrack accepted it with only small commentary on the three extra pages. Perhaps the man was finally realizing Paul knew more than he ever would. Paul refused to speak to Straal throughout the entire class, despite the notes that Straal kept throwing at him that were made of  _ actual paper. _

He barely remembered the day, and only realized he had robotically made his way to the cafe he met Hugh at when he walked into the door and the smell of the coffee hit him. He rubbed a hand over his face, blinking slowly to get his bearings together. He slept for nearly 12 hours yesterday, so why did he still feel so exhausted? Another cup of coffee would solve this.

He ordered a cup of black coffee, deciding to leave it like it was, before sliding into his usual seat, hunched over slightly, and waiting for Hugh. He closed his eyes, breathing out a deep sigh and trying to relax. 

Soon enough, at approximately 0811, Hugh walked inside. He smiled brightly and waved at Paul, getting his usual burrito before coming over to the table. However, rather than sit across from him, Hugh slid right beside him on the bench, forcing Paul to suddenly scoot over, lest he be squashed by Hugh.

“Good morning Paul,” Hugh said, unwrapping his usual burrito.

“Morning,” Paul mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.

Hugh frowned. “Are you okay?”

Paul nodded. “Fine, just a little tired.”

“You look more than a little tired,” Hugh said and Paul forced himself to straighten up and make his face more emotionless. “Don't just hide what you're feeling,” Hugh immediately said with a frown.

“You did the same thing at the hospital on Alpha Centauri,” Paul pointed out with a shrug, taking a sip of coffee.

“That’s different, I was working.”

“Oh, perfect,” Paul said, a smile slipping onto his face. “I was working when I didn’t sleep, mostly, therefore it counts.”

“It does not!” Hugh immediately protested. “You could be sleeping right now, but instead you’re here. It’s different.”

Paul shrugged once more. “I’ve gone longer without sleep, I’m not sure why I feel so tired.”

The concern in Hugh’s eyes tripled, and Paul quickly took a sip of coffee to stop himself from talking. “Have you eaten anything?”

Paul blinked, thinking back to through the last few hours. “...No.”

Hugh shook his head. “There’s your problem. Here,” he held his burrito out to Paul. “I’ll get another one, you eat that one.”

Paul took the burrito with only slight hesitation, looking it over with a lofted brow. “Alright,” he said as he unwrapped it. He noticed Hugh was staring at him and glanced over at him. “...What?”

“I’m waiting for you to start eating it,” Hugh said simply.

Paul sighed, but took a bite out of the burrito.  Flavour burst in his mouth, too much for him to work through at once. His face scrunched up, but his stomach growled at him loudly and he quickly swallowed. “Satisfied?”  
Hugh stood up, grinning. “I’ll be right back,” he said, returning to the front line of the cafe. 

Paul bit into the burrito again, leaning back into the booth. Maybe Hugh had been right, because some of the pain in his head immediately began to subside. 

Hugh slid back into the space beside him, unwrapping his new burrito. “Did you just forget to eat anything?”

Paul shrugged, “I was busy,” he defended. “There’s no time to eat when I’m working on papers.” He thought back to Straal gorging himself on eight burritos, and decided he hadn’t really been hungry the whole time anyway.

“You couldn’t spend 5 minutes asking your synthesizer that automatically makes food to make you a snack?” Hugh asked.

Paul huffed, unwrapping another section of the burrito. “I forgot. It wasn’t important.”

Hugh frowned at him, but Paul refused to look up at him, picking up his cup of coffee instead. “Now I’m going to have to text you at random times in the day asking you if you’ve had lunch. You usually eat breakfast  _ before  _ coming to class though, right?”

“I eat breakfast...eventually,” Paul said carefully, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Paul!”

Paul took a long gulp of coffee to save himself from replying too early. “I barely manage to wake up before class starts, let alone make food.”

“Is it safe to assume you have time to make a cup of coffee?” Hugh raised an eyebrow, taking a large bite out of his burrito.

Paul paused, taking a bite of burrito before talking. “Coffee is the only thing keeping me alive in that class.”

“You’re officially eating breakfast with me here every morning. Or, at least, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” Hugh said as he took a bite of his own burrito.

“I’m not really a fan of burritos,” Paul said, folding up the empty wrapper.

“Well, it’s a good thing they have an entire menu of items that  _ aren’t  _ burritos,” Hugh said, gesturing back to the menu with a grin.

Paul glanced at the menu, his face twisting. “Perhaps.” He took a final sip of the coffee, finishing it off. 

“I’m going to make you try every item on the menu until you find one you like.”

“Or,” Paul said, “I could stop showing up here.”

Hugh frowned again. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? Then we wouldn’t see each other at all during the week.”

“I don’t know, eating breakfast feels like a dealbreaker to me,” Paul said, a smile just beginning to curve over his lips.

“I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Hugh said, then looked down at Paul’s empty cup. “Next time. I doubt you need more coffee right now.”

Paul frowned, just a slight downturn at the corners of his lips, and he looked at his cup as well. He was about to protest, as he looked back up at Hugh, but there was so much concern in Hugh’s eyes that it made the words die on his tongue. Instead he looked down at his PADD, noticing the time of 0837. “Hugh, didn’t you want to get to your class early today, to prepare for your lab?”

Hugh looked at Paul’s PADD to see the time, before quickly standing up. “You’re right. Sorry I have to cut this so short. I’ll see you later hun.” Hugh had waved, turned and walked out the front door before Paul could even think of a reply, words caught on the edge of his tongue.

For a moment, he realized he was now free to get another cup of coffee, but he hesitated. He didn’t want to make Hugh worry any more, so he’d forgo the coffee for now. He stood up, rubbing a hand over his face as he shoved his PADD into his bag and picked up the trash and cup, depositing them away. He shuffled out of the cafe slowly, sighing. It was going to be a very long day.

He made it into the lab at 9:59, sliding into his seat. The space next to him was empty, so he pulled out his PADD and sent a  _ hurry up _ to Straal.

Straal replied instantly. Had he been waiting for Paul’s message?  _ I dont feel like it today. You can solo the lab, cant you? _

Paul scowled. _ Don’t you DARE make me take this advanced optics crap alone. You’re the one who set the lasers up, and I have no clue of what you were attempting to do. _ Paul glanced up to see the professor walk in and cursed under his breath.

_ Alriiiiiiiiiight. I’ll be there in like 20. _

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply.  _ You’ll be here in 5 minutes, or I will log into your account, remove you from the class, forcing you to take it next spring semester and not allowing you to graduate for another year. _

_ Yeah, sure, but then you’d have no one to do any of the experiments with.  _

_ Just get over here. Please. _

_ Okay, okay. I’m on my way. _

Paul turned off his PADD, sighing heavily. He started the lab alone, cursing Straal under his breath as the light continued to not shine through the carefully set up mirrors in the just perfect, one way it was supposed to. He hated physics.

Nothing seemed to go right throughout the lab. Even once Straal showed up, neither of them could get the lasers to line up properly and give them a percent error that  _ wasn’t  _ over 500, and after 4 hours they were plenty ready to give up. 

Exiting the lab, Paul rubbed his eyes and collapsed into a plush chair just outside the science building. He sat there for a few moments, trying to unwind, before pulling out his PADD with the attempt to consolidate some of his research from the past week. Mushrooms always made him feel happy.

However, when he pulled out his PADD, he saw 4 messages from Hugh. Paul frowned, and quickly opened them up. They were sent throughout the course of his lab.

_ Good luck today!  I hope things are working out for you! <3 _

_ Call me if you need to rant about anything! Or text me. I’ll be here for you! _

_ Update: my 3 hour lab was cancelled and I’ve never had so much free time. What do I even do now? I hope things are starting to look up on your end! _

_ Update 2: I splurged and got frozen yogurt. We should get some together sometime :)! _

Paul blinked in surprise, reading the messages over again just to ensure he actually read them all properly. Something warm settled in the pit of his stomach, and he smiled, trying to think of a way to reply.

_ Is this your way of asking me on another date? _

There was a flash, causing Paul to look up from his PADD, startled. Straal was standing in front of him, taking a picture with his own PADD.

“Paul Stamets, smiling, in the flesh, and  _ not  _ over mushrooms. This needs to be documented,” Straal said, grinning broadly as he put his PADD away. 

Paul immediately scowled. “Why are you like this?” He saw another message from Hugh pop up and he looked back down at his PADD

_ Well, I was planning on showing up at your doorstep with 50 roses and a musical ensemble but this will have to do. How was your lab? _

Paul typed back a reply quickly, practically ignoring the message Hugh sent.  _ Are you busy currently? _

Hugh’s reply was instant:  _ No, why? _

Paul looked back up at Straal as he stood up. “I can’t go to lunch with you today. I have plans.” 

Straal blinked. “You have  _ plans? _ ” he repeated. “When do you ever have plans?”

Paul bristled. “I have them now,” he snapped. “Maybe if you’d been on time to the lab, I wouldn’t have had the extra time to make them. I’ll see you later tonight. Goodbye.” He turned and walked down the hall.

He left Straal sputtering behind him, and felt a surge of satisfaction. He looked down at his PADD again. He  _ hoped  _ Hugh would say yes, even if he hadn’t asked yet.  _ Let’s get lunch.  _

Hugh replied quickly, before Paul was even out the building.  _ Definitely! :) Where can I find you? _

_ Outside Science 52. _ Paul typed back, taking a seat on a bench with a sigh. He wasn’t sure if this was even alright. He’d literally gone to lunch with Straal every day at the same time and at the same location for the last year and a half. What was happening that made him so eager to break routine? The plans he followed felt like the only things keeping him sane at this point. Was it smart to try and change everything? Maybe he should cancel, call Straal back-

“Paul!” Hugh’s voice rang across the clearing, startling Paul from his thoughts. He looked up to see Hugh jogging towards him, waving and grinning brightly.

Paul blinked a few times, standing up. “Hello Hugh.”

“Hey!” Hugh caught up to him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “What a coincidence,” he said dryly. “I never would have expected you. Where did you come from, to get here so quickly?” 

“The library,” Hugh said with a shrug. “It’s not that far.”

“The library is halfway across campus,” Paul paused, frowning slightly. “Are you telling me you  _ ran _ over here in less than 5 minutes?”

Hugh rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, shrugging. “It’s not that far.” 

“It’s 1.27 kilometers,” Paul said, aghast. “You ran that casually?”

Hugh nodded. “Yeah, I run a 5k every morning.” 

Paul shook his head, muttering, “Horrifying,” before adjusting the strap on his bag. “Alright, where should we go?”

Hugh shrugged again. “I’m okay with any place. I’m not super hungry, so…”

“Then why did you agree to get lunch with me?” Paul frowned at him. 

Hugh blinked. “Because I wanted to spend time with you,” he stated, as if it were obvious.

Paul stared for a few moments, unable to think of a quick enough reply. “Well...then, we can go to the library or something.”

Hugh frowned disapprovingly. “ _ You  _ need to eat lunch.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “You’re not working, you know, you can stop doctoring.” Nevermind the fact that Hugh’s concern for him confused him in a number of ways. What reason did Hugh even have to care? 

Hugh looked affronted. “I can’t just stop doctoring. You just told me you forgot to eat for at least 15 hours. That’s worrisome!”

Paul scoffed. “Please, I’ve gone longer.” 

“And _ that _ is exactly why I need to keep doctoring,” Hugh said, once more smiling, pleased his point was proven. “Where do you want to get lunch?”

Paul sighed. “I’ve never met someone just as stubborn as I am.”

“I’m only this stubborn when my boyfriend refuses to eat lunch.”

Paul scoffed again, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am not refusing to eat lunch--”

“Great!” Hugh said, a broad grin coming over his face. “Then where do you want to go?”

Paul narrowed his eyes at Hugh, before finally giving in. “Fine. Lets go to Vigi’s.”

Hugh nodded. “Works for me.”

“Let’s go, before you feel the need to inflict me with another health tip,” Paul said as he turned, immediately walking off.

Hugh walked beside him. “I can walk and give you health tips, it’s the best of both worlds.” 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Paul said, putting his hands in his pockets. He could just see the smile on Hugh’s face out of the corner of his eye. “I’m perfectly fine living as unhealthily as possible.”

Hugh looked physically pained. “Please, that’s so bad for you.”

Paul nodded. “One might even say it’s unhealthy.”

Hugh sighed, causing Paul to smile lightly. The expression died a moment later when someone made eye contact with him from across the clearing, walking over to him. 

“Hey, Stamets!” they shouted, waving at him. Paul tried vaguely to remember their name; the only thing coming to mind was that he had seen them in his Bioengineering class. The cadet stopped in front of him, effectively stopping his walk.

Paul sighed, staring down at them. “What do you want?”

They looked between him and Hugh for a moment before fixing their gaze onto Paul, smiling. “I was wondering if you could help me with our Bioengineering course. I talked to the Professor and-”

“No,” Paul said bluntly. “I’m busy.”  _ Why does every cadet think I have the time to stop them from failing?  _

Their smile faltered, turning into a frown. “All the time?”  
Paul sighed heavily, annoyance building within him. “Yes.” They continued to stand there, staring at him for a few moments. He scowled, waving his hand at them flippantly. “Go. Leave. I don’t care about you.”

Their hurt expression warped into anger and they scowled at him. “Fuck you,” they snapped as they turned away. He still had no clue who they were. 

Paul sighed, shoving his hand back into his pocket. “Idiot.”

Hugh, who Paul only now just remembered was here, frowned down at him. “That was a bit harsh, Paul.”

Paul frowned, unsure of how to handle the disapproval in Hugh’s tone, but he collected himself quickly. If Hugh wanted to be around him, he’d have to deal. “If they can’t pass this class, they’re not meant to be here,” Paul said bluntly. “They should be able to learn the material on their own.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow. “What if I asked you for help in something?”

Paul hesitated again, trying to think of what to say. Obviously, he’d never say  _ no  _  to Hugh. “...That’s different,” he muttered, once more continuing to walk towards to lunch.

“So you’d help me then, but not another classmate?” Hugh asked, walking by his side. 

They were close enough together that their arms knocked against each other with every other step, and Paul pulled his arm closer to his side to stop it.  He could see a student he recognized from Heimbrack’s class staring at him, and he glared over at them until they looked away. “Yes.”

“That sounds a bit biased.” 

Paul huffed. “It is biased. I’m not a doctor, I’m allowed to be biased.” He stopped again when he got a call on his PADD, and grabbed it out of his bag. He considered hanging up the moment he saw Straal’s number, but he knew Straal didn’t outright call him unless it was typically an emergency. He sighed, accepting the call as he came to a stop once more. “What do you want, Straal?”

“There’s been a radiation leak in the bio lab. It was quarantined off, before I could get to it, but all of the specimens we stored there have most likely been damaged too far to repair.” Straal sighed, his face too close to the PADD’s camera, looking annoyed. “Where’s your man, since I’m sure you’re with Prince Charming--”

“Straal!” Paul hissed, and Hugh chuckled beside him.

“--and they’ve done a call out for upper division med track students. If he’s done his radiation certification, he’ll probably be getting a call any second.” 

On cue, Hugh’s PADD rang out with an emergency notification. He quickly pulled it out, giving Paul a regretful look. “I’ll have to take a rain check on our lunch date.” He hesitated for a moment, unsure, before gently squeezing Paul’s shoulder, letting his hand trail down his arm before falling. “I’ll call you later hun.”

Paul blinked, trying to come up with a reply. What was it with Hugh and calling him all of these names? Only when a slightly concerned frown appeared on Hugh’s lips did Paul quickly nod. “Yes, right. Alright.”

“I’ll make it up later.” Hugh’s PADD dinged again and he looked down at it. “Gotta go, bye!” He smiled and waved before turning and quickly walking off towards the Bio labs.

Paul sighed, watching Hugh walk away with a slight frown on his face.

“Wow, that is the  _ saddest  _ I have seen you ever look, and I just told you our mushroom crop is dead,” Straal, still on call, said.

Paul jolted, looking down at the PADD in shock. “Didn’t I hang up on you?”

Straal snickered. “No. Looks like you’re free now though. We should go talk to Kaul about the destroyed specimens.”

Paul sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Alright, alright. I’ll see you there.” He ended the call, walking towards the faculty offices. Moments later his PADD dinged with a message from Hugh. 

_ This isn't an excuse to skip out on lunch. You better still be eating. _

He grimaced, leaving him on read. Sorry Hugh, but there were far more important things that needed doing.

 

✭✩✭

 

Throughout the rest of the week, Paul and Hugh didn’t have a chance to get together except at the cafe in the morning. Hugh was, as he promised, insistent upon making Paul try different items off of the menu. Different  _ healthy  _ items, as apparently Paul couldn’t simply eat a french toast doughnut and call it a breakfast.

Come Friday, Paul was nibbling on a banana as Hugh slid in beside him. “You know, I don’t think just a banana counts as breakfast either.”

“Three bananas, actually,” Paul said, gesturing to his two other bananas on the table. Hugh seemed unimpressed, raising an eyebrow.

“Wow Paul, that’s...bananas.”

Paul gave Hugh a withering glance. Hugh was trying, and failing, to keep a large grin off of his face. 

“You’re insufferable,” Paul grumbled, taking a bite of his banana.

Hugh snickered. “You’re berry right,” he said, unwrapping his usual burrito. “Get it? Because a banana is a berry and-”

“I get it,” Paul cut in, rolling his eyes. “Don’t elaborate.”

Hugh laughed again before taking a bite of his burrito. “So, I was wondering...are you busy tomorrow?”

“Moderately,” Paul replied, picking up the second banana. “With the damage to the Bio Labs, the experiments Straal and I were running with Kaul can’t happen anymore. So I’m going to create a report, explaining in the  _ simplest  _ language possible, about what happened and why Straal and I should get our own lab, as we’re completely qualified to be officers in everything but age.”

“Oh.” Hugh looked slightly disappointed, but cleared the expression away quickly. “That’s important, then.”

Paul nodded, and swiped open his PADD when a message pinged on it from Straal.

_ Change of plans. I have a project ;) I need to work on tomorrow night. We have to finish our project Sunday. _

Paul stared at the message with furrowed brows, sending back an immediate reply.

_ What? We can’t delay this, it’s important. _

Straal’s reply came quickly:  _ So is my sex life. _

Before Paul, who was scowling, could reply, Straal sent another message.

_ I mean if you’re that desperate I can always invite him over to our apartment and in between rounds I can do some reports. _

Paul nearly gagged just sitting there.  _ We’ll work Sunday. _

_ Good talk Stamets. _

Paul dropped the PADD irritably.

Hugh gave him a worried frown. “Is everything all right?”

“I hate Straal,” Paul seethed, rubbing his forehead. He could feel another headache coming on just considering the time that would be lost. “He’s delaying our entire project for his own selfish needs.” 

“What did he say?” Hugh asked as he took another bite of burrito.

“He changed his plans for tomorrow,” Paul grumbled, leaning back into the booth. “Now he refuses to work, and I’ll have to finish every report by myself.”

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself,” Hugh said, frowning once again. “It’s important to take a break every now and again.” 

Paul shrugged grumpily. “It’s not that much of a further stretch from what I usually do. I just won’t have Straal helping me this time.” 

“Well, I  _ do  _ understand Biology, maybe I could help you out?” Hugh offered, pausing for a second before continuing. “Plus, Ger is...going to be busy in our dorm, and I’d rather not be there while he is.”

Paul was ready to protest, but only frowned slightly, then sighed. “I suppose that’s a good enough reason. I’m not exactly pleasant to be around while I’m working. Or in general.” 

“That’s not true!” Hugh immediately protested, and Paul had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “I love spending time with you.”

“You are the singular exception in this world,” Paul said, picking up his final banana.

“You have Straal, and your parents, I’m sure.”

Paul grimaced. “Haven’t we already had this conversation? I’m getting a sense of deja vu.”

“You keep putting yourself down. I won’t stand for that,” Hugh said, shaking his head.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re sitting down then.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Hugh finished off his burrito, crumbling up the wrapper. “You should see all the fantastic things about yourself that I do.”

“I know that I’m a genius and incredibly talented,” Paul said, peeling down the last section of the banana. “That doesn’t make me enjoyable to be around.”  
“Those aren’t the only qualities you have,” Hugh immediately protested. _How can someone be this cheerful?_ “You’re incredibly honest, and determined--even though you use that in the wrong way sometimes,” Hugh said. “But still! All admirable traits.”

Paul rolled his eyes as he took a bite from his banana, but he couldn’t manage to stop the light blush that crept across his pale cheeks. “I suppose,” he grumbled. He tapped the fingers from his free hand against the edge of his PADD, running a list of all the reports he needed to do in his head. They should be easy enough to complete, even with a distraction. “If you’d truly like to, you could come over on Saturday. I’m sure Straal will be leaving in the morning, so you can come at any time.”

Hugh was finally smiling, “Well, I wake up at 0600, so I doubt you’d want me knocking on your door then.”

Paul shrugged. “I’ll be awake. It wouldn’t bother me.”

“Please tell me you’ll sleep tonight,” Hugh said as his smile immediately disappeared. 

“I’ve been told I’m a terrible liar, so I don’t think I can tell you that,” Paul said, dropping the final banana peel onto the pile.

“You’ll be working hard tomorrow,” Hugh insisted. “You’ll need your sleep.”

“I’ve done this before, Hugh,” Paul said. “I’ll be fine.”

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

“Don’t you have class?” Paul cut in, raising an eyebrow. Anything to stop this conversation about his sleeping habits. “You don’t want to be late.”

Hugh turned on Paul’s PADD, frowning down at the time. “Okay, you’re right, but this discussion isn’t over.” 

“Of course not,” Paul said.

Hugh stood up, picking up the wrapper and banana peels. “I’ll talk to you soon.” 

Paul only nodded, watching him go. Once Hugh had left, he glanced down at the list of messages from Straal, tapping his fingers against the edge of the PADD, calculating just how long he’d need to work over the next day to finish in time. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for sticking with us through this story. <3   
> We've currently caught up to where we're writing, so the updates will become more sporadic as we now have to write it, edit it, and then post it. But we still love our story and won't stop!! <3


	8. Chapter 8

The whole day went too slowly, but also too fast. Paul’s mind was running through the lists of data logs, requests, and reports he’d had to make. He went between each class in a haze, stumbling home at about midnight, dropping his bag onto the couch and making a pot of coffee. “Computer, is Straal here?” he mumbled, rubbing his face.

_ Cadet Straal is asleep. _

Paul sighed. “Of course he is. Set an alarm for him at 0500.”

_ Request denied; proper authorisation required. _

Paul scowled, pouring himself a mug from the freshly synthesized pot of coffee. “Authorisation code: Prototaxites stellaviatori.”

_ Authorisation denied, improper code. _

“Fuck you Straal,” he grumbled, pouring in a heaping of sugar before carrying it to their study. “Fine, drop request.”

_ Understood. _

Paul settled into his seat, setting the hot mug down beside him. He opened up his computer’s display, opening the holographic images up to surround him. “Now, to draft a report to the upper brass of Academia,” he muttered, already picking his mug back up to take a sip from it. “Far more daunting than my thesis presentation, and that was at least 50 pages.”

Time ticked down, Paul writing, and rewriting, and editing, and changing his request to Starfleet. Paul didn’t leave the study, lights on low, for hours, typing and muttering away. He only checked his PADD once, when he was at another lull on page 12 and wasn’t sure what to do. It was then he saw a message from Hugh.

_ Hey Paul! Do you think it’d be okay if I came over at 9? _

_ Shit, what time is it? _ Paul checked the time on his PADD, 9:02. Hugh had sent the message over an hour ago.  He muttered a curse, quickly replying.

_ Sorry, lost track of time. Yes, that will be fine.  _

Paul stood up. “Computer, lights to full.” He winced against the sudden bright light, shuffling out of the study to make another pot of coffee. Maybe he should try something else? Or take a shower? He needed to change, at the very least. He couldn’t be  _ that  _ obvious about not sleeping. 

He quickly got changed and was soon sitting on the couch, waiting for Hugh. At precisely 9:33 there was a knock on the door, and Paul sprung to his feet to answer it. It was Hugh, of course, standing there waiting. “Hi Hugh.”  _ That was terrible. Say something else. _

Hugh beamed a smile at him. “Hi Paul. Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes, right, of course. Sorry.” Paul stepped back, inviting Hugh inside. “I still have work I need to do, so I’ll be busy for...a while.” What should he say? There wasn’t really a precedent for ‘you’re here but I’m still working on my research but you’re going to sit around anyway’ sort of...date. Was this even a date? Did it count?

Hugh pat the bag at his side. “I brought the report I have to work on anyway, so no worries.” 

Paul nodded, watching the front door slide shut. “Right, okay.” He shifted his weight between his feet. “You can sit...anywhere I suppose. I’ll just be with my mushrooms.” 

Hugh looked amused, but nodded. Paul fiddled with the edges of his sweater’s sleeves before nodding in return and turning back to the study, going back to his report. He relaxed immediately when he was sitting down again, surrounded by his data. He could forget Hugh was here. He didn’t even look back to see where Hugh was. 

Hours ticked by, Paul mumbling to himself as he restructured his argument. Every once in a while he would abruptly stand up and go make another pot of coffee. The first time he did, upon returning he spotted Hugh, sitting at Straal’s desk and frowning down at his PADD. Paul blinked at him a few times.

“Oh, you’re here. I mean-well, do you-would you like a cup of coffee?”

Hugh looked up at him, smiling gently so the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I’m okay, but thanks.”

Paul nodded, the movement a bit too awkward, sliding back into his seat quietly.  _ You’re an idiot, Stamets. Just focus on the fungi.  _ He had his first draft done, now he needed to compile his research together concisely. 

When he got up to get coffee the third, or maybe fifth, time, before he had even stood up, Hugh was standing beside him. “Let me guess: coffee break?” 

Paul jumped slightly, startled. “What?”

Hugh held up a coffee pot. “You stand up every 45 minutes on the dot to make a mug of coffee.”

“Oh,” Paul blinked. “Yes, thank you.” He held up his mug, a slightly confused furrow in his brow. Hugh poured some coffee into his mug, looking like he was trying to hold back a laugh. 

“Good luck with your report,” Hugh said as he disappeared back into the kitchen. Paul picked up the mug of coffee, taking an experimental sip. It seemed satisfactory.

After some time, Hugh seeming to always conveniently appear with coffee, Paul felt exhausted. It broke the concentration away from his report and he noticed the smell of something...cooking? He didn’t even know their oven worked. He stood up, rubbing grime out of the corner of his eyes. “Computer, what time is it?”

_ It is 1404. _

Paul sighed, walking out to the living room. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Hugh standing in the kitchen, cooking. Or rather, pulling something out of the oven. “Hugh, what are you doing?”

Hugh set the dish down, turning around to face him. “Making something for lunch. I’m sure you would’ve forgotten on your own.” 

Paul looked at the dish, moving further into the kitchen to refill his mug of coffee. “Is that mac and cheese?”

Hugh grinned. “Yes! I think it’d be good to take a little break, especially for lunch,” he watched Paul shuffle towards the synthesizer. “And, maybe you should try to hold off on the coffee for a little bit.”

“I’m tired,” Paul grumbled. “I deserve coffee.”

Hugh stepped closer to him, gently placing a hand on top of his mug. “How about something else?”

“Like what?”

“I’ve been told I make a mean hot chocolate.”

Paul snorted. “Hot chocolate?” But the expression on Hugh’s face wasn’t joking, so Paul just sighed. “Fine, alright. Make it a coffee hot chocolate.”

Hugh took the mug out of his hands with a grin. “That’s called a mocha, which I won’t do, but I promise you’ll love it anyway. Take a seat.”

Paul sighed again, sitting down at the tiny table in the kitchen, resting his head against his hand. “I don’t understand,” he paused to yawn, “why I’m so tired. Maybe I need to up my coffee consumption.”

Hugh looked almost guilty as he turned back to Paul. “Your last three or so cups have been decaf,” he admitted.

Paul blinked at him, frowning. “What?”

“The amount of caffeine you’ve had is dangerous,” Hugh defended. The synthesizer dinged and he turned back to it, pulling out two mugs of hot cocoa, topped with a swirl of whipped cream and chocolate shavings. “Don’t get me started on sugar.”

Paul scoffed. “I can’t believe you gave me decaf. What’s the point?”

Hugh placed the mug down in front of him, followed soon after by a bowl of mac and cheese. “There’s enough sugar in every mug you drink to keep a child up for days.”

Paul gave him a withering look as he picked up the mug. He looked over the chocolate and whipped cream critically as Hugh sat down across from him. He took a tentative sip from the edge of the mug, surprised by the cinnamon that hit his tongue. “Cinnamon?” he asked, looking over at Hugh.

Hugh nodded but it looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Mhmm.”

Paul frowned. “What?”

Hugh gestured towards him, giggling. “You have a…”

Paul’s frown turned into a scowl, annoyance clear in his tone. “A what?”

“Here, let me just,” Hugh grabbed a napkin from the table and leaned forward towards Paul. He gently wiped whipped cream off of Paul’s upper lip, fingers lingering against his cheek for a moment as Paul stared owlishly at him. A moment later, Hugh pulled away, sitting back down. “There.”

Paul stared at him, suddenly feeling  _ very  _ awake as his heartbeat tripled. “....Thanks.”  _ Is Hugh flirting? Well, we are dating. That makes sense. How do I respond? Should I say anything else? Why does he look so calm? _

Hugh smiled at him as he picked up his fork, pointing at Paul’s bowl before taking a scoop of his own mac and cheese. “You can’t get out of eating lunch this time.”

Paul picked up his fork, thankful for the subject change, which helped him pull his thoughts back together. “I don’t actively try to ‘get out of lunch,’ thank you very much.” 

“No, you just keep forgetting to eat,” Hugh said after a forkful of mac.

“Yes,” Paul said, scooping up a few macaroni pieces. “It’s valid reasoning. I have a lot of work I’m doing, and that takes precedence.” 

“Your well-being is important too,” Hugh said.

Paul waved his hand dismissively. “Not in comparison to the scope of my research.” He took a sip of the hot cocoa, hoping the sugar in it could wake him up; he also wiped a napkin across his mouth, eliminating the chance of another awkward scenario.

Hugh was frowning at him from across the table, and Paul sighed. “I’ve finished all of the reports I needed to do. Now I can only wait for Straal to finish his section.” He paused to take a sip of the hot cocoa. “Perhaps we could...do something instead of working.” 

Hugh grinned broadly. “Let’s watch a movie,” he replied instantly. 

Paul raised an eyebrow. “A movie? Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“It’ll be fun! We can sit on the couch, wrapped up in warm blankets, drink water and eat healthy snacks like sliced carrots.” 

Paul snorted. “Wow, I’m sold,” he said sarcastically.

“Pleaaaase, it’ll be fun.” Hugh frowned at him, looking dejected. 

“Alright, alright, fine,” Paul sighed. “We’ll watch a movie.”

“Great!” Hugh exclaimed, a bright smile taking over his face. “Finish your mac and we can get started--I’ve already set everything up.” 

“Set up?” Paul repeated, a slight furrow in his brows as he scooped up another forkful of mac. “How did you know where everything was?”

Hugh shrugged. “It’s the same layout as my dorm,” he said before taking a bite of mac. “With the added study, of course--do all engineering tracks get that?”

“Straal and I had to pull a few strings,” Paul said with a shake of his head. “But once he decided to use the area as a pseudo-lab space rather than a hot tub room,” a vivid image of Straal in the hot tub, surrounded by other naked cadets filtered through his brain and he barely suppressed the shudder, “it was quite simple.”

“A hot tub room?” Hugh asked, a smirk coming over his face. “Seriously?”

Paul grimaced. “The man has many eccentricities.” He looked over the mac, taking another bite, but slower. 

“You’re telling me,” Hugh laughed. “As soon as Ger opened the door today, Straal was all over him--no  _ hello  _ or anything.”

Paul blinked slowly, frowning. Is  _ that _ where Straal went? An image of Geraldo appeared in Paul’s mind, from the few times he’d seen him. Right, definitely Straal’s type, now that he thought about it. Shorter than him, stronger build, slightly tanned--why was he thinking about this? “...Our roommates are together,” he confirmed, his frown growing worse.

Hugh shrugged. “Right now, yes,” he said as he then frowned. “...Do you think they planned this?”

Paul thought back to Straal’s sudden message that cancelled their report writing plans.  _ Of course Straal did this.  _ He snorted, rolling his eyes as he set the fork down and picked up the mug of warm hot cocoa instead. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Straal thrives off of meddling in my personal affairs. 

“Considering it gave us this date,” Hugh said, “I won’t be too mad about their scheming.” He gave Paul a soft smile that made time freeze for a split second, before the look in his eyes screamed ‘doctor’ when he glanced over Paul’s bowl of mac and cheese. “Are you done?” he asked, a disapproving frown on his face.

Paul just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, pushing the bowl away. “The thought of Straal has taken away my appetite entirely.” That wasn’t entirely wrong; just thinking about their old hot tub made him want to gag. 

Hugh sighed, but didn’t press the issue. “My bad,” he said as he picked up the two bowls. “Go ahead and get on the couch.”

Paul stood up, holding the warm cup of cocoa in his hands as he looked over the couch--where a blanket and bowl of popcorn already rested. “How long have you been waiting around?” he asked as he stepped closer towards the couch. “Where did this blanket come from?”

Hugh snickered, coming up from behind Paul. “I finished my report an hour or so ago, but I didn’t want to bother you.” He went over to the couch, setting his mug of cocoa on the end table before moving the blanket and taking a seat on the left side of the couch. “The blanket came from your closet.”

Paul stood at the other end of the couch, inspecting the set up dubiously. He didn’t even know he had a blanket in the closet. “What would we do  _ after  _ the movie?”  

Hugh shrugged. “Watch another one? We can do anything.”

Paul grabbed the blanket with his free hand, pulling it aside as he sat down beside Hugh, leaving a few inches of space between them. 

Hugh turned the TV on, switching it to the streaming service  _ Starflix _ . “What sorts of movies do you like?” 

Paul shrugged helplessly. “I haven’t watched a movie in years.”

Hugh looked at him incredulously. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve had more important things to do these last few years, like get my Ph.D, thank you,” Paul said with a frown.

“Grad students are allowed to have fun, Paul,” Hugh said, clicking on the ‘suggested movies’ section. “You must’ve seen something recently.” He paused for a moment when the list of suggestions came up, followed by the ‘watch again’ section. It was simply pages of mushroom-themed documentaries. Hugh glanced over at Paul.

Paul looked between Hugh and the screen. He’d forgotten just how often he had Straal happened to watch documentaries. They were easy to have in the background while studying.  “...Look, I-”

“These are definitely movies, which means you’ve seen a movie in the last three months at least once.” Hugh clicked on the first one. “It says this one has been played 27 times.”

Paul huffed. “Straal is on this account too, it’s not just me. Give me that remote.” He reached across Hugh, trying to snatch it out of his hands, but Hugh quickly pulled it out of reach.

“I can dig the mushroom movies.” Hugh said, going to the search bar. “Get it? Dig? Because--”

Paul sighed loudly, falling back against the couch in defeat. “You’re awful at jokes,” he grumbled.

Hugh snickered again, grinning. “Anyway, there’s this new movie that came out recently that’s all about breaking the laws of science to travel through space-time and save the world from cliche evil aliens. I vote we watch that.”

Paul looked appalled. “There’s going to be so many things wrong with it.”

Hugh nodded, already looking it up. “That’ll be the best part.”

Paul took a long sip of the cocoa, willing the sugar to wake him up. “I suppose. I’ll throw popcorn at the screen every time something is wrong.” 

“We’ll run out of popcorn half an hour in,” Hugh said, finding the movie and starting it, letting it load in. He was still laughing, Paul could hear it in the tone of his words, and it make Paul smile just slightly.

“Computer, lights to two percent,” Paul said as he reached over to snag the bowl. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make in the name of science.”

Hugh laughed, reaching over to grab the blanket and drape it over their legs. 

The movie started, both of them falling into silence. That lasted all of five minutes before Hugh groaned. “That’s not how pressurisation works, you can’t just take off your helmet. He’s dead Paul, that man is dead. Five minutes into the movie.”

“They just used rocks as fuel,” Paul sighed, another 15 minutes later. “Just plain rocks.”

Popcorn was being thrown at the screen left and right, both of them criticizing every minute detail that the movie got wrong. 

“Here comes the love interest. Who should be dead too, by the way. No one survives that long without oxygen.” Hugh threw a piece of popcorn at the screen in the middle of the ‘dramatic reveal’ of the story.

“They’ve already launched someone through space without a suit on because they ‘figured out how to create a sound-based atmosphere.’ What makes you think they couldn’t survive without oxygen?” Paul rolled his eyes.

The final scene couldn’t have come quickly enough, and it was filled with explosions and far too much blood to be feasible, and nothing scientific in the slightest.

“Things don’t just explode like that in space there’s no oxygen you morons,” Paul griped as he reached for the popcorn bowl.

At the same time, Hugh started talking and reaching for the popcorn bowl. “You can’t just survive a stab wound after taking the embedded object out. You’ll bleed to death.”

Their hands touched, and Paul immediately pulled his back like it was electrocuted. Hugh frowned at him, looking guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Paul quickly shook his head, looking back at the movie. “It’s no big deal.” He did not, however, reach for the popcorn again for the last 20 minutes of the movie.

Once it ended, Paul scoffed, stretching his legs out. “I remember why I never watch movies. They’re abysmal.”

“That was at least a little fun, you have to admit.” 

Paul shrugged, pulling his legs up onto the couch, and pulling the blanket up to cover his chest. “I do enjoy insulting people.”  
Hugh snorted slightly, standing up. “That’s one way to think positively. Do you want another mug of hot cocoa? Or well, should we watch another movie or do something else?”

Paul yawned. “I want coffee.”

“Well that’s out of the question. I’d ask how much you’ve had in the last few days, but I don’t think I want to know. Hot chocolate?”

Paul sighed, tilting his head back to look over at Hugh. “Fine; hot chocolate. And yes, let’s just watch another movie. I don’t feel like moving anymore.”

Hugh nodded. “Can do.” He returned in a minute with a mug of hot cocoa, sans whipped cream. Paul took it, suddenly realizing how cold his hands were as he wrapped them around the warm mug. “What do you want to watch next?”

Paul shrugged, taking a sip of the cinnamon-y cocoa before replying. “Just randomize it. Something will show up.” 

Hugh sat down beside him, shrugging. “Okay.” He started the movie, sipping from his own cocoa mug.

The movie that started playing was something romantic, and Paul immediately regretted his decision of randomizing. How convenient, that with him and Hugh here together, out of all randomized things, a _ romantic  _ movie had to start playing. There was much less that either of them could complain about, so most of the movie was spent quietly watching or muttering about the stupid decisions the characters made.

About a quarter of the way through, Paul was pulling the blanket closer around him, stealing it away from Hugh in an attempt to stay warm.

After Paul had stolen all of the blanket, wrapping himself in it, Hugh glanced over at him. “Are you cold?”

“No,” Paul immediately replied, his nose covered by the blanket. “What gave you that impression?”

Hugh gestured over the blanket. “You stole the whole blanket.”

“It’s a very nice blanket,” Paul defended. “I wanted to... get a closer look at it.”

“Get a closer look at it?” Hugh repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

Paul nodded. He’d go down with his lie. “Yes.”

“Well, if you end up feeling cold, I’ve been told I am  _ very  _ hot,” he winked at Paul, “and I could probably help.”

Paul could feel his cheeks immediately turn red, and he quickly looked back to the movie, hiding most of his face under the blanket. He couldn’t even think of a reply that wouldn’t embarrass him horribly. 

Another half hour passed and Paul  _ still  _ felt cold. Every few minutes he would glance over at Hugh to gauge his reaction, but Hugh seemed more or less invested in the movie. Slowly he inched closer towards Hugh, unraveling the blanket until he was gently pressed against Hugh’s side. “...I’ve finished inspecting the blanket, so I felt like I should give it back,” he muttered, holding one end of the blanket out to Hugh.

Hugh grinned at him, taking the offered half. “Thanks.” He pulled the blanket across until it was covering both of them equally. 

The movie continued on, but Paul hadn’t the slightest notion of what was happening in it. He was bored with it, really. He stifled another yawn, squinting at the bright screen. He glanced at Hugh again, trying to decide what to do. 

He was getting so tired, and Hugh was sitting right there. He wouldn’t mind, would he? Probably not. Carefully, he leaned his head against Hugh’s shoulder. Paul was tense for a few moments, but Hugh didn’t say anything, so he slowly relaxed. 

Paul could feel himself growing more tired with each passing second, and he realized belatedly that he should stop spending time with Hugh when he was so sleep-deprived. 

A few minutes later, just as Paul was nearly about to fall asleep, Hugh moved his arm, jolting Paul awake, making him move his head away. He was about to ask if something was wrong when Hugh’s warm arm curled around his side. Oh. He looked up at Hugh only to realize Hugh was looking down at him with worry in his eyes.

The sudden eye contact startled Paul, and he quickly looked back at the movie. Things seemed awkwardly tense between the two of them until Paul rested his head back against Hugh. After that, Hugh seemed to relax, and the silence between them felt more amicable.

As the movie neared to the end, Paul scoffed. “This whole thing is ridiculous. No one simply finds their true love in some random café and lived happily ever after,” he grumbled. 

There was a beat of silence from Hugh before he responded. “I met you in a café.”

Paul tensed immediately, and a second later he pulled away from Hugh. 

Hugh immediately looked worried. “Paul, I’m sorry, I-”

“What are you hoping to get out of this?” Paul demanded, staring at him with a frown and slightly furrowed brows.

“Hoping to get out of this?” Hugh repeated, sounding confused.

Paul nodded. “Why are you here with me? What do you stand to gain?”

Hugh still seemed confused. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

“But why? For what purpose?” 

Hugh’s frown deepened. “To get to know you better? I don’t need a _ reason  _ to spend time with you, do I?”

Paul didn’t respond immediately. Hugh just didn’t understand what he meant.  _ Everybody is always looking for something.  _

Before Paul could think of what to say, Hugh spoke up. “What’s your reason then?”

Paul looked taken aback, not expecting Hugh to ask  _ him _ . He was silent for a beat, pursing his lips before speaking. “You’re able to tolerate my honesty, and have a rudimentary grasp of the science behind my research. That’s enough.”

Hugh looked hurt, not that there was any reason for him to not be. “Is that really all relationships are to you? A way to gain something from someone else?”

“That’s all relationships  _ are, _ ” Paul said with a shake of his head. “True love doesn’t exist, Hugh.”

“We’re not talking about love anymore,” Hugh paused the movie, looking far more serious than he had moments ago, and Paul could feel nervousness suddenly tearing away at his insides. 

_ Way to go Paul. Fuck everything up as per usual.  _ He nervously looked about, unable to focus his gaze on Hugh, his finger tapping a staccato rhythm against the blanket. He couldn’t think of anything to say in reply, despite how quickly thoughts were flying through his brain, and nothing felt like it was the right response.

Hugh was frowning,  _ still  _ frowning, as he reached out and gently took Paul’s hand in his, stopping his tapping. He was gently rubbing his thumb in a circle on the top of Paul’s hand, and all of Paul’s spiraling thoughts focused back in on that moment.

“Look, Paul,” Hugh’s voice was soft, and there was concern and something  _ else  _ shining in his eyes. “I don’t get anything out of this. I care more about you than I probably should, which makes me concerned when you do things like live off of coffee--but I’m not getting anything out of that. I sincerely like  _ you, _ not whatever you may provide for me.”

Paul’s eyebrows were furrowed, like there was an equation in front of him he didn’t understand. “Why?”

There was a beat of silence from Hugh, but he was  _ still  _ rubbing circles against Paul’s hand. “Why do you keep coming back to the cafe to talk to me every morning? If you only wanted to talk about your research, you could’ve found any cadet down in the biology labs.”

Paul blinked, the furrow in his brows becoming more pronounced. “Well it’s...different.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow. “Different how?” 

“You’re a better listener.”

“Paul, I don’t even understand mycology,” Hugh said. “You know that. There’s plenty of other cadets who would understand what you’re talking about better.”

“Well, yes, but it’s also…”  _ It’s also the way that you smile every time you walk through the door, how you ask if I slept the night before because you sound like you actually care, the way your expression seems to light up every time you notice I’m there as if it’s the greatest thing that’s happened to you all week, or how every time I hear your voice the thoughts in my head all seem to unravel, and- _

“Also…?” Hugh pressed.

_...Maybe Hugh is on to something.  _ He blinked again, trying to find a way to articulate his words together. “Better?”

“Better?” Hugh repeated, a smile quirking his lips. Paul immediately felt relieved to see the frown disappear. “Paul Stamets, walking thesaurus with a PhD, and all you can say is better?”

Paul’s frown, in contrast, became worse, turning into an insulted scowl. “I’d like to see you do bett--” he cut himself off immediately, and Hugh’s smile turned into a wide grin. “It’s a perfectly acceptable word choice.”

“Sweetheart, you’re the smartest man I’ve ever met, but you’re awful at stuff like this.”

Paul’s face scrunched up slightly at the pet name. “I’m not so sweet,” he grumbled. 

“You’re  _ very  _ sweet.”

“Not like you.” 

Hugh’s grin became brighter. “You think I’m sweet?”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Tooth-achingly so; you text me every morning asking me if I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“You usually don’t reply to those.”

“I didn’t see how texting ‘no’ would’ve helped the situation.”

“Paul!” Hugh looked horrified.

“Please, don’t remind me that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I eat breakfast every other day now, isn’t that enough?”

“You mean when you’re with me, in the café?” Hugh sounded unimpressed. “We’re getting off track,” he said with a shake of his head. 

Paul’s free hand started tapping against the blanket until Hugh took that one too, and suddenly there was nothing to focus on but the earnesty shining in Hugh’s eyes, the soft curve of a smile at the edges of his lips and the  _ words  _ he was saying.

“I’ve spent less and less time running every morning, just so I can walk into the café that much sooner to see you for even a minute longer. I love seeing the way you smile when you talk about your research, or the knit in your eyebrows when you complain about your professors. Just being around you makes my day better, and that’s why I always come back. I love--spending time with you, because it’s with  _ you. _ ”

Paul stared at Hugh in shock, still working through processing his words while Hugh just continued to smile softly at him. “That’s hardly fair,” Paul muttered. “How can you expect me to reply after you say something like that?” 

“You don’t have to say anything, not if you don’t want to. I can see it all on your face.” 

Paul raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been told I’m expressionless, so I don’t see how you could tell.”

“Nope, clear as crystal,” Hugh said with a shake of his head.

“Actually, the opacity of crystals is somewhat debatable, and--”

“You’re avoiding the subject, hun.”

Paul grimaced. Of course he was avoiding the subject, he had no idea what Hugh wanted him to say. “What subject?”

Hugh’s expression was patient, too patient. “I’m trying to get you to realize that  _ this, _ ” he gently squeezed both of Paul’s hands, “doesn’t have to have anything come out of it to be good. Love isn’t a business transaction.”

Paul scoffed. “None of the relationships I’ve been in or around have been anything but.”

Hugh looked sad in that moment, but only in his eyes. He was still smiling. “I guess I’ll have to teach you then.”

Paul was quiet for a moment, his gaze searching, calculating. His face was stone, but the quiet murmur of his words gave away his feelings. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No,” Hugh agreed. “I don’t; but I want to.”

A small smile, thin but still there, came over Paul’s face. There was a hesitance in both of them, unwilling to break the silence that descended, not sure who should act first.

It ended up being Paul who moved first, leaning forward and capturing Hugh in their first kiss. Everything felt perfect in that moment, like all of the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together. 

Nothing prepared him for how  _ sweet  _ everything felt. When he was with Steven, everything had felt superficial, a cold embrace that always felt like it took too long, even when their lips brushed for a fraction of a second to appease some benefactor at a party. But this...felt warm, and every second seemed to stretch into infinity and then shrink until it was too long and too short all in the same moment. Hugh’s lips were soft, and inviting, and everything felt right, but…

Paul pulled away moments--seconds? Hours?--after, his eyes opening to meet Hugh’s awestruck gaze, his eyes colored a glassy cocoa thanks to the blue light of the television. “I apologise,” Paul immediately said, breaking the eye contact. “I--I wasn’t thinking, I should have asked first, that wasn’t--”

“That,” Hugh interrupted, a soft, lazy smile curling over his lips as Paul slowly looked back at him, “was perfect.” He leaned forward, gently kissing the corner of Paul’s mouth. Hugh leaned back, the wide grin on his face brighter than the sun in the low light. “I’m just a little...confused.”

Paul’s brows furrowed, anxiety curling through his stomach, a frown etching onto his face. “About...what?” he bit the inside of his cheek before continuing, “Kisses are...pretty self-explanatory, aren’t they?”

Hugh gave a huff of laughter, and Paul felt some of the ice that had started to creep up his chest melt. “Not about that,” he said. “Well, kind of. I just...I thought you weren’t into affectionate stuff like that. Whenever we’re at the cafe or on campus, you always shrug everything off.”

“Oh,” Paul said.  _ Is that what all this was about?  _ He’d never really…considered what Hugh might think of by his actions. “I don’t like other people seeing me be...unprofessional,” he said simply. “They don’t need to know my personal life.”

Hugh blinked, and then he laughed in relief.  _ Was Hugh really that worried about it? _ “I guess I should’ve just asked in the first place, then. I was worried my hands felt weird.”

Paul blinked, feeling confused for a split second, before amusement won over, a small smile quirking across his lips. “They don’t,” he said. “I...apologise if I was ever abrupt or rude about it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh said. “With how strong I came on, I’m surprised you put up with me until now.”

Paul frowned, his eyebrows furrowing together again. “Hugh,” he began, speaking before he thought about what he was going to say, “I’ve never had to  _ put up _ with you. Every time i see you, my day brightens. Your smile is the only thing holding me over, some days.” 

The moment the words left his lips he felt they were too much, and he wanted to pull them back. He bit on the inside of his cheek, watching Hugh’s expression raptly. There was a blush just faintly that he could see on Hugh’s cheeks, but Hugh wasn’t saying anything as moments ticked into seconds, and Paul’s frown grew deeper. 

Then, like a switch was flipped, Hugh immediately beamed a smile, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against Paul’s cheek. “I’m so glad I met you,” he murmured, gently resting his forehead against Paul’s.

Paul smiled softly, the last few of the icy claws that felt like they were digging into his chest melting away. “Me too,” he said quietly. But a moment later, his eyes were drawn towards the television. “Should we turn the movie back on?”

Hugh shook his head a little, their foreheads still gently pressed together, too close but yet it still felt  _ perfect. _ “It’s almost over anyway,” he murmured. “We can just put a new one on. I wasn’t that invested, were you?”

“Not at all,” Paul agreed. “Where’s the remote?” he asked. He looked past Hugh again, trying to find the remote, but unwilling to move away from him yet.

Hugh nuzzled his nose against Paul’s, and Paul could feel heat rising to his cheeks, before Hugh pulled away. Paul immediately felt a frown tug at the corners of his lips from the loss of warmth, and the room around him suddenly felt too cold.

Hugh grabbed the remote, returning to the list of films. “Should we randomize it again?” he asked as he looked at Paul.

Paul looked at the TV for a moment, before looking at Hugh, his gaze drifting down towards Hugh’s chest. It felt too cold without Hugh right next to him. Should he move closer? Was it too soon for that? Or too late? “Might as well.”

Hugh randomized the movie choice, letting it load in as he looked back to Paul with a smile. “You know, if you’re still cold, we could always cuddle.” 

Paul quickly looked back up at Hugh’s face.  _ How does he know what I’m thinking?  _ “I  _ do  _ still have the blanket,” he began, about to gesture to the blanket covering his legs. But Hugh didn’t let him get that far, as he immediately grabbed the blanket and shoved it to the floor.

Before Paul could say anything about it, Hugh raised an eyebrow at him. “What blanket?” he asked, already feigning innocence. “I don’t see a blanket. Are you alright, Paul?”

Paul blinked, looking between the blanket on the floor and Hugh, flabbergasted for a moment. “Did you really just--”

“I didn’t do anything,” Hugh interjected, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t want to cuddle, then just say--”

“You’re an idiot,” Paul grumbled, giving the discarded blanket one last glance before moving closer to Hugh, closing the inches of distance that had remained between them for most of the movie. 

“But I’m  _ your  _ idiot,” Hugh said as he wrapped his arms around Paul, gently pulling him into his warm chest. The quip that Paul had on the tip of his tongue died as Hugh gently kissed the top of his head. Hugh shifted until they could lie down, pulling Paul down with him until Paul was resting on top of him. 

Paul’s heart was hammering so loudly he was sure Hugh could hear it. He’d never felt so  _ warm  _ before, Hugh radiated heat like a furnace, but he wasn’t sure if he could move--if he should move--or if he shouldn’t move, or how to breathe, or what to do--

The introduction to  _ Mycelium Running _ started playing, and immediately Paul’s gaze was drawn to the screen, which displayed beautiful scenery and picturesque ganoderma applanatum. 

“Oh, this is a good one,” Paul said with a relaxed smile. “You’re in for a treat, Hugh.”

Hugh laughed, his breath tickling Paul’s hair. “I believe it,” he said. “Especially since I’m here with you.”

Paul felt his cheeks heat up, and he couldn’t think of a proper reply--plus the documentary was about to start and he certainly didn’t want to interrupt that--so he only shifted slightly, settling down and becoming more comfortable. For some reason, the smile at the corner of his lips didn’t want to fade away, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the documentary, or how his night had gone. Probably a mix of both.

_ Mycelium Running _ continued on, with neither of them talking during it. Paul was enraptured, as he always was, by the documentary. Although by now, he could quote it word for word. At one point, he did begin quoting it, copying the on screen scientist’s words. “An extract of the mycelium from the agarikon polypore mushroom Fomitopsis officinalis protects human blood cells from infection by orthopox viruses. Fascinating.”

He descended into silence for a few more minutes, until another one of his favourite parts came on and he couldn’t help but quote it as the documentary flew over scenery of a vast forest on Earth. “In the lifetime of an individual Pseudotsuga menziesii, more than 200 species of mycorrhizal fungi live symbiotically in and on its roots. Isn’t that amazing Hugh? Imagine the vast potential mycoremediation still has, untapped,” he paused for a moment, but heard no reply, and glanced up towards Hugh’s face with a slight frown. “Hugh?”

Oh, Hugh was asleep. Paul felt slightly offended that Hugh had fallen asleep during one of the greatest documentaries ever made, but it was late at night so...that was mostly forgivable. Plus, with his face relaxed, breathing softly, Hugh looked adorable. 

Paul looked back to the documentary, but stayed quiet. He didn’t want to accidentally wake up Hugh, after all. After  _ Mycelium Running  _ ended, Paul didn’t feel sleepy yet, thoughts of spores and mushrooms filing through his head. He let the movie credits roll through, too comfortable to move, but when the next one came on:  _ The Magic of Mushrooms _ , he watched it all the way through, and the next one:  _ The Nature of Fantastic Fungi.  _ After that one Starflix asked him, _ Are you still there? You’ve been watching for 7 hours!  _ He winced, reaching a hand out to slowly turn the television off. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was definitely too early in the morning.

Once the television was off, Paul could feel sleep dragging him in. He set down the remote, shifting only slightly again to get comfortable before his eyes fell closed. His thoughts drifted as sleep started to claim him. He’d never thought lying on top of someone would be so comfortable, or so warm. Or maybe that was Hugh himself who caused that. He was very snuggle-able, after all. Then again, it’s not as if Paul had ever snuggled someone before, so he didn’t really have a scale of reference to go off of. So in terms of that, this seemed pretty alright. Maybe things would work out after all. Maybe he didn’t have to worry so much when Hugh was around. That sounded nice, not having to worry.

Slowly, he drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for keeping up with our story guys! <3 I don't know when exactly our next chapter will be out, but I hope you guys like this one!!
> 
> It was probably the most fun to write yet, so let me know what y'all think!! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hugh's pov can be found [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13653672)  
> (Written by my best friend <3)  
> If you ever wanna chat, you can find me on tumblr @mushroommantakemebythehand  
> :)


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